


Strangeness and Charm

by bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (just a bit), (just a brief mention), (not like gorey just like ouch it hurts), Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Communication, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Inflation, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Menstruation, Moderate descriptions of injury, Oviposition, Post s2e8: the Blade of Marmora, Stitches, Xenobiology, changing body/growing pains, lots of plot leading up to the porn, slight Breeding Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 00:22:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14759099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies/pseuds/bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies
Summary: Keith returns from the Trials of Marmora a changed man, in more ways than can be seen on the surface.  Awakening his blade has in turn awakened some Galra attributes that had been lying dormant in him.  Sharper hearing, low-light vision, greater lung capacity… oh, and ridges on his cock, an aphrodisiac in his teeth, and eggs he never knew he had.(Written for Voltron Kink Bang)





	1. Hydrogen In Our Veins

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much to the amazing artists who created art for this fic, [shitlorddio](https://shitlorddio-smut.tumblr.com/post/174269597972/yes-god-keith-please-i-need-your-cock-i-need) and [curiously-artistic](https://the-dark-tomato-king.tumblr.com/post/174273245990/my-contribution-to-the-vld-kink-bang-the-lovely), (check those links there for the art!) and thank you to the mods of Voltron Kink Bang for organizing this.
> 
> This takes place immediately after s2e8: the Blade of Marmora.

It goes without saying that Keith is more than a little sore, following his trials at the Blade of Marmora’s headquarters.  He is in so much pain that he has to lean on Shiro for support while they walk back to the Red Lion. After the adrenaline of the fights has worn off, he is left feeling drained, his battered muscles stiff and aching.  He’s pretty sure he cracked a rib getting tossed across the room by one of the Blades, and he’s surprised his nose isn’t broken after that vicious punch from another. The slice of a wound over his shoulder is still bleeding sluggishly, dampened only by the gauze Antok taped over it after the trials.  There’s a good chance he sprained his right wrist; good thing he is ambidextrous, or he might not have been able to continue after that. Overall, he feels like his lion just stomped on him and then sat down and refused to get up, crushing him underneath several hundred tons of metal space-cat. He has dealt with physical pain, though, and the constant, dense ache gets pushed to the back of his mind as something else takes precedence in his thoughts.  As he walks out of the Blade of Marmora’s headquarters, his left arm is slung over Shiro’s shoulders while the right hand clutches his knife even through the tendrils of pain spreading from the wound on his shoulder. His knife is back to its simple, nondescript form, as if it hadn’t just shattered his entire identity.

He was Galra.

He wasn’t human.

No… no, he had to be half-human; he didn’t remember much about his father, but Keith knew he had to have been human.  Young as he had been when he last saw his father, he would have noticed if he was seven feet tall and purple. He would have noticed yellow eyes glowing in the dark of the shack at night.  He would have noticed long, claw-tipped hands as they taught him how to tie his shoes, how to hold a pencil and write. He would have felt them that night his father touched his hair and then left, not going to the outhouse as young, half-asleep Keith had thought, but disappearing into the night, never to be seen again.  The long-standing mystery of where the knife -- left on the table with a note that just read:  _ Keith, take care of this. _ \-- and where it had come from has finally been solved, at least in part.  His mother, whoever she was, had been part of the Blade of Marmora, although they were unable to tell Keith who she had been and why she had gone to Earth, or what had happened to her.  The only thing they knew was that the knife bore the mark of the Blade of Marmora, and Keith being able to awaken it meant that he had Galra blood.

Galra… How terribly ironic, that he himself is the very thing he is fighting against.  Did this make him the enemy? Was he even fit to be a paladin, anymore? Would the Red Lion put up its particle barrier and bar him from entering, now that it was revealed that he, inadvertently, shared a bloodline with Zarkon, Haggar, Sendak, and every other Galra that had colonized defenseless planets, ripped precious life from scores of Balmera, enslaved and killed untold scores of aliens across the universe?  The same people that abducted Shiro, that tortured him and took his arm?

Keith stops walking suddenly, a sickening feeling dropping into his stomach like a stone and freezing him down to his bones.  Shiro pauses to look down at him when he stops, a concerned furrow forming between his brows. “Keith?”

“I… you…” Keith has enough presence of mind to retract his arm from around Shiro’s shoulders, even as his aching muscles scream in protest.  How could Shiro possibly want to touch him? “The Galra… everything they did to you… a-and now  _ I’m _ …” 

Shiro’s eyes widen as he realizes what he’s getting at.  “No, no, Keith…”

“Aren’t you afraid of me?”  Keith stumbles back a couple steps, and Shiro follows him.   _ How _ ?  How can Shiro look at him like that, with his eyes soft with understanding?  How can he reach for him, and take his trembling hands in his own?

“If I were helping Zakon or Sendak back to their ship, it might be different.”  Shiro tells him, thumbs smoothing over the backs of his bruised and bloody knuckles.  “But I’m helping  _ you _ back, Keith.  And I know you have never done anything to hurt me.  I know  _ you _ .  I’ve known you longer than you’ve known about all this.”  He looks down, lifting his right hand just a little bit as he smiles ruefully.  “Take it from someone whose body is, technically, partially Galra: this might be a part of you, but it does not define you.”

Keith lets the words wrap around him, soothing his mind and assuaging his fears.  Whatever would happen now, whatever would change because of this, he is still Keith, and he still has Shiro.  Tears prick at his eyes, the sensation painful against the bruise forming on his cheek. He nods and squeezes Shiro’s hand, not trusting his voice.  Luckily, Shiro understands, and gives him a reassuring smile as he helps Keith walk the rest of the way to the Red Lion. 

The fatigue sinks even deeper into his bones as he flies back to the castle-ship.  He is exhausted, physically and mentally. The briefing with the rest of the team when he gets back and the revelation of his heritage goes about as well as he expected; the rest of the paladins are stunned, Lance fires off a million questions that Keith doesn’t have answers to, Coran quickly masks his shock with a stony expression, and Allura eyes him distrustfully, her gaze hardened and cold.  Keith grows quiet in the face of their questions, and Shiro puts a hand on his shoulder and calmly takes over, reminding them all that they know for a fact there are Galra who are not on Zarkon’s side, and that more importantly, they know  _ Keith _ , and that this should change nothing.  The rest of the paladins agree with him, bobbing their heads with varying degrees of enthusiasm.  Coran’s brow is furrowed, a frown likely hiding under his moustache, but he nods as well. Allura crosses her arms and looks away.  Keith is just happy she doesn’t slam him into the wall like she had Ulaz. 

As the rest of them disperse, Keith starts to head to his room, drooping with exhaustion.  Shiro catches his elbow with gentle fingers. “We need to check out your shoulder.” 

“It’s fine.”  Keith winces at the drag of gauze over the wound.  He just wants to sleep. He wants this day to be over.  

“You’re tired, I know.”  Shiro tells him, voice soft but firm, unyielding.  “But you’re not going to bleed out in your sleep.” 

Keith deflates and allows Shiro to lead him to the infirmary, knowing he is right.  As the doors automatically close behind them with a rush of air, Keith lowers himself gingerly to sit in one of the chairs, unable to make himself hop up onto the examination table.  Shiro does most of the work getting Keith’s chestplate off, since Keith’s own movement is limited by the wound. He tugs the flightsuit down enough to bare his shoulder and then carefully peels off the bloody gauze, frowning at it.  

“This might need stitches…” Shiro says quietly, dabbing at the blood with an antiseptic pad.  The gash left by the blade is deep and long, curving over his shoulder. He lays a clean square of gauze over it.  “Hold this, and keep pressure on it. I’m going to see if I can find some suturing materials.” 

Keith presses the gauze to the wound with his left hand, watching in an almost disconnected way as Shiro moves around the infirmary, opening drawers and rifling through cabinets.  “You know how to do stitches?” He asks, surprised in a loose, floaty sort of way, almost like the concept of surprise without much of the feeling itself. He wonders vaguely how much blood he has lost.  

“Everyone on the Kerberos mission had to have basic medical training before the expedition, in case something happened while we were in space.”  Shiro explains. “Somewhere between an advanced first aid course and something an EMT might go through. Matt called it ‘diet med school’.” A rush of air leaves his nose in a huff, a hint of a laugh as he smiles fondly at the memory.  It is gone just as quickly as it came, though, and he frowns at yet another cabinet as the infirmary doors open soundlessly behind him. “Man, I  _ really  _ need to study Altean more.  I don’t know what most of these are.”

“Perhaps I can help?”  

They both turn to find Coran standing there, hands tucked behind his back.  He pauses to study Keith briefly, his gaze flicking from his face to the wound on his shoulder before he turns away and opens up a drawer on the other side of the room.  “Suturing supplies are over here, for future reference.” He tells Shiro. He sets a number of tools and supplies on the examining table next to where Keith is sitting. “Shiro, if you wouldn’t mind, please get a bowl of water and dilute some disinfectant, and I’ll do the suturing.”  

“You…?”  Keith doesn’t understand.  Doesn’t Coran hate him? 

“Among other things, I am the chief medical officer on this castle-ship, after all.”  Coran says simply. “It is one of my duties to make sure that all our paladins are healthy.”  

“Even… the Galra ones?”  Keith asks, his voice quiet.

Coran’s hand stills for a moment.  “All the paladins.” He repeats firmly.  He sets a few more things down before getting to work flushing the wound clean.  Shiro hovers nearby, handing him things as he needs them. When the wound is clean and numbed and Coran is a couple of stitches in -- Keith resolutely looking away from the needle passing through his skin -- the Altean man speaks up again.  “You know, before the war, mixed-species individuals were not uncommon. Not everyone had the means to travel to other planets, but some did, and of course some of those who did fell in love with people of alien species different from their own.  I myself even attended a large, very grand wedding for… for a high-ranking Galra and his Altean wife.” 

“Really?”  Keith is surprised.  

“Indeed.”  The words are punctuated with a snip of scissors.  Keith doesn’t dare look at the progress. He can only feel a strange tugging sensation at the edges of the numbed area as the skin is pulled into place.  He is relieved when Coran goes on, as it gives him something to focus on. “And children produced by such unions were, at the time… well, not exactly common, but certainly not unheard of.  Furthermore, from my understanding of it, the number of mixed-Galra individuals has only risen over the past ten-thousand years, as a result of the Empire’s growth. That sort of thing tends to happen with expansion, you know.”

“So… you’re not mad?”  Keith asks quietly, heart pounding.  Coran pauses, signaled only by the tugging stopping for a moment before resuming.  

“I feel many things.  Anger is one of those emotions.”  Coran admits, and Keith’s heart sinks.  “But it is not directed at you. All of my frustration and anger that I feel is directed toward Zarkon himself, and… certain others who were close to him.  But even that is a complicated subject. It is a complex situation, like the knotted-up branches of an ancient  _ omusterat _ tree, and you paladins are but one small leaf on the fringes of those tangled branches.  We all are.” Coran snips the last thread, then sets his tools down and peels off a glove to pat Keith’s bicep.  “But I harbor no ill-will toward you, Keith. I promise you that.” 

Keith looks down at his lap.  “What about Allura?” He asks, his voice quiet.  

Coran releases a slow exhale.  “The princess is young. She was born during a time of peace, but largely grew up during the height of the tensions between planets.  She lost both of her parents to violence with the Galra, and more recently lost her father’s hologram memories. She is hurting. But deep down, she knows you are not the one who hurt her.  It may take her some time to come to terms with her feelings. But she knows this is not your fault.” 

Keith’s gaze settles on the knife still clutched in his right hand.  He rubs his thumb over the spot where he knows the glowing emblem lies hidden under the cloth wrapped around the hilt.  “I’m sorry.” He whispers. “Until the blade started to glow, I had no idea… I never would have imagined…”

Coran smooths down a large bandage over the stitched-up wound.  “You have nothing to apologize for, Keith. You never lied or hid your heritage, if that’s what you mean.  You simply did not know. Frankly, I am surprised you told us as quick as you did. It seems like you are still processing it yourself.”  

Keith nods mutely. He’s still a little in shock, to be honest.  If anything, this leaves him with more unanswered questions than answered ones, plus a whole new slew of questions he has a feeling he might never get the answers to.  He longs to know more, to know where his mother came from, why she joined the Blade, why she came to Earth,  _ why she had him _ … He feels the intense wanting in his heart like an ache, dull but ever-present, persistent.  Then again, that could just be the bruises that litter his chest, left by the Blades’ strikes.  

Coran pats his knee.  “Go get some rest. I’ll clean up here.”  

Keith nods, the sudden heaviness of fatigue bearing down on him in a rush now that his injury is tended to.  Shiro helps him to his feet and loops an arm around his waist, placing his good arm over his shoulders to support him as they walk back to Keith’s room.  He can hardly keep his eyes open, only able to stay on his feet because of the easy, repetitive motions of walking and Shiro’s warm, strong arm around him.  Keith collapses to sit on the edge of his bed with a groan, and is nearly entirely unhelpful as Shiro carefully removes the rest of his armor and pulls the flightsuit off.

“Do you want to try and put your pajamas on?”  Shiro asks. 

“No.”  Keith flops back onto the pillow, turning onto his left side to keep his weight off his wounded shoulder.  He can’t imagine trying to get another set of clothes on; he would have gladly just slept in his armor, if Shiro had let him.  He closes his eyes but only dozes lightly as he listens to a few more moments of rustling behind him. Shiro finally slides into bed behind him, just as bare in only his boxers, and tugs the blanket over them before settling down with an arm curled around Keith’s waist.  He presses a kiss to the back of Keith’s neck, and Keith only just barely hears him murmur a good-night, drifting off before his mind is able to process the words. 

~~~~~~~

The pain Keith felt after leaving the Blade of Marmora’s base was nothing compared to the pain he wakes up with the next morning.  

Every part of his body aches, tender muscles having gone stiff over the course of the night.  He has a pounding headache throbbing at his temples, and it hurts to even  _ breathe _ .  Muscles he didn’t even know he  _ had  _ are sore, feeling like they have been through a meat grinder.  His skin looks like a damn Gaudi mosaic mural of deep purple, mottled blue, and angry red bruises.  He thinks his stomach is trying to digest itself, but he can’t make himself get up to go find breakfast. 

“I’ll bring you something to eat,” Shiro murmurs, and Keith groans and burrows deeper into the blankets; even trying to be quiet, Shiro’s voice grates against his ears, somehow sounding amplified.  What he really wants is the silent, sweet release of death, but what he gets is a kiss pressed to one of the few unbruised patches of skin on his neck and a quiet-but-too-loud promise that he’ll be back soon with food.  

When Shiro returns with a plate of food goo, he helps Keith maneuver himself into an upright position leaning back against the wall and settles the plate on his lap.  Apparently Hunk has been experimenting in the kitchen again, as the normally-bland food goo tastes… different. Stronger. Slimier. Keith eats as much as he can, which is only about half of the plate.  

“Come on, Keith, you’ll need your strength to heal.”  Shiro tries.

Keith shakes his head, wincing as the movement aggravates his headache.  “I can’t. Whatever spices Hunk put in there just aren’t sitting well with me.”  

Shiro blinks.  “Hunk didn’t put any spices in it.  I just got it out of the machine myself.  There’s nothing added.” 

Keith looks down at the plate of goo, poking it suspiciously.  It definitely tasted different. Not especially spicy or salty or savory, just… more.  He can’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe he damaged some tastebuds on his tongue from accidentally biting it, during the trials.  Maybe that was what was making everything taste funny. Or maybe he had gotten hit in the mouth and forgotten about it in the heat of the moment;  that would explain why his teeth ached, too. He must have gotten hit twice, once on each side of the front of his mouth, for it to ache in two separate spots.  He really thought he would have remembered that, though. Odd.

He manages to eat another few spoonfuls of goo before he gives up, feeling nauseous.  Shiro sets the plate off to the side and holds him while he falls into another long nap, feeling only moderately better by the time he wakes up.  He is able to stretch his aching muscles, albeit moving slowly, and lets Shiro talk him into a shower with the promise of not having to lift his injured arm to wash his hair.  

The hot water helps his muscles relax, even though the droplets sting against his bruises.  Shiro’s hands are soothing as they massage soap into his hair, nearly lulling him to sleep on his feet.  Shiro chuckles at him and moves the showerhead closer to rinse the soap suds out of his hair. Washing the leftover dried blood off of his chest and back -- that shoulder wound had bled a  _ lot  _ between him getting it and it actually being treated, and they hadn’t managed to clean all of it the day before in the infirmary -- results in him looking much less like he just stumbled off the set of a horror movie.  A few of his bruises are already beginning to fade to a dark yellow color around the edges of the deep purple splotches. He gingerly pats himself dry while Shiro digs through the closet in search of a pajama shirt that buttons up the front rather than his usual over-the-head t-shirt, and once he is dressed, Shiro instructs him to sit on the closed lid of the toilet while he puzzles over the manual for the Altean hair dryer found in one of the drawers under the sink.  After determining that it was not, in fact, a type of gun, and finding the ‘dry’ setting rather than the ‘curl’ or ‘straighten’ setting, he dries Keith’s hair enough that he won’t catch a cold from having damp hair, and then gives his own short hair a quick dry as well, making his white fringe even fluffier, much to Keith’s amusement. Shiro may or may not have threatened him with his finger poised over the ‘ _ curl -- max _ ’ setting in retaliation for the laughter.  

Now clean and dry, Keith takes another nap while Shiro leaves to retrieve some more food and a couple of water pouches, as well as update the rest of them on Keith’s condition.  The others are relieved to hear that Keith seems to be recovering, slowly but surely. Allura, he notices, is strangely absent from the group. He tries not to dwell too much on that.  

~~~~~~~

“It’s really quite peculiar.”  Coran peers down at the healed scar stretching across Keith’s shoulder.  “You seem to have healed at a much faster rate than the rest of the you human paladins have in the past.”

“Do you think it has something to do with… me being half Galra?”  Keith asks quietly. 

Coran hums, looking thoughtful.  “I suppose it’s certainly possible.  Galra do heal fairly quickly, compared to humans and Alteans.  Not that anyone has ever compared the three very extensively.” He tapes a new bandage over the still-pink scar, just to be safe.  “How does the rest of your body feel?” 

Keith sighs, wincing at the twinge of pain in his ribs from the action.  “I think I cracked a rib. Muscles are still sore all over, too. And my mouth aches.”

“Well, you were certainly run through the wringer at those trials, I hear.”  Coran points an X-ray scanner at his chest. It beeps for a few moments. “Not detecting any broken bones here.  Perhaps it’s just a contusion, or a bruised rib.”

“Maybe.”  Keith muses.  “My stomach has been hurting, too.  Or, below my stomach, actually. Intestines?  I don’t know.”

“Indigestion, perhaps.”  Coran says, setting the scanner aside.  “Could be from all the stress.”

“Probably.”  Keith figures that makes sense.  It feels like he got kicked in the kidneys, hard.  

Once Coran gives him the green light, Keith leaves the infirmary and makes his way to the room with the couches sunken into the floor, the one that the paladins have commandeered as a lounge room.  Predictably, he finds the rest of them there, with Hunk and Pidge working on some robotic device in the corner, Shiro watching them curiously, and Lance reading a book on one of the couches with his foot propped up over the back of it.  

“Hey, there he is,” Hunk looks up, grinning at him.  “The guy who took on a hundred Blade of Marmora fighters and won!”

Keith smiles, feeling uncharacteristically shy at the praise.  “It wasn’t a hundred. No more than a dozen.” He slowly lowers himself to sit on one of the couches.  “And I’m not sure ‘winning’ is exactly what I did.”

“Did you get knowledge or did you get death?”  Shiro asks, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Knowledge, I guess.”  Keith admits. Some, but not much.  “I  _ felt  _ like death, though.”  

“But you’re feeling better now?  At least a little?” Hunk asks. 

“You certainly  _ look  _ better than before.”  Lance points out. “You came back looking like a zombie bred with a Tarantino movie protagonist post-battle-scene.”  

“Charming image.”  Pidge quips, wrinkling her nose in distaste.  

Keith chuckles a little.  “Yeah. Bruises seem to be fading.  Mostly just have a stomach-ache, now.”  He rubs his cheekbone, right where his incisors met his molars.  The ache is duller, now, though, so whatever punch to the face he must have gotten seems to be healing.  

“I can make you some chicken-noodle soup, if you want.”  Hunk offers. “Or, technically, some kind of flightless-alien-bird-noodle soup, but it tastes like chicken, at least.”  

“Sure, as long as it’s bland.”  Keith says. “I don’t think my stomach likes much of anything with flavor, right now.”  It was more his tastebuds than his stomach, technically, but he doesn’t feel like explaining that.

“Kind of a weird symptom to show up after getting beaten up, don’t you think?”  Lance says as Hunk heads off to the kitchen. 

Keith shrugs, and absently notices that the motion no longer pulls at the wound on his shoulder.  It really must have healed, already. “I mean, I’ve never gotten quite that beat up before, so I wouldn’t know.”  It does seem a little odd, but he doesn’t think much of it. He just feels relief that the pain from before is fading.  


	2. Our Particles, They're Burning Up

“This just looks… wrong.”  Allura frowns at the water set into the floor.  The paladins had convinced Coran to flip the entire room upside down so that they could use the pool, but the Alteans still look hesitant about it.  

“Okay, but here’s my question,” Pidge asks her, fingers steepled and pointed toward the princess.  “How do  _ you  _ swim in water that’s on the ceiling?”

Allura wrinkles her nose.  “You know, normally.”

“But what about  _ gravity _ ?”  Pidge presses.  

“Less science, more swimming!”  Lance snatches the green paladin up and launches himself into the pool, Pidge shrieking and clinging to him like an angry cat.  Lance lets out a hacking cough when they surface. “Oh, ugh, water up my nose…”

“You deserve  _ every drop _ .”  Pidge smacks the top of the water and sends a splash right at his face.  

“Guys, no rough-housing near the pool.”  Shiro chides, sitting on the edge with his legs dangling in the water.  He’s still wearing a t-shirt along with his black swim trunks, and Keith loathes that it hides his perfectly sculpted abs and chest.  But the fabric also hides dozens of scars that it had taken a long time for Shiro to feel comfortable baring to just Keith, so he knows better than to press him to take it off.  

“Yeah, just because there’s no lifeguard on duty doesn’t mean you can’t still slip and get hurt.”  Hunk adds, dipping his toes in the water. “Ooh, chilly…” He shivers, probably a little too dramatically, Keith thinks (it’s not  _ that  _ cold).  

Lance and Pidge share a positively evil look between them, and Hunk has half a moment to blink at them before the two lunge forward, grabbing his ankles.  Hunk lets out a yelp and hops backwards, away from the edge. The other two just heave themselves out of the pool and chase him down, catching him near the lounge chairs where their towels are tossed.    

“No running!”  Shiro calls, then sighs when they ignore him.  “No one ever listens to me…” he mutters, shaking his head.  

“They listen to you quite a lot.”  Allura points out, dipping her long legs in the water.   

“In battle, yes,” Shiro acknowledges.  “But apparently not when they’re in danger of whacking their heads open on the wet tile.”  

Allura hums, watching as Coran joins the other two in trying to push Hunk into the pool.  She lifts a foot out of the water, stretching it out in front of her, and eyes the droplets falling off her toes and back into the pool.  She frowns suspiciously, then looks up at the ceiling in puzzlement. Keith is about to ask her how Alteans pools work, again, but his question gets cut off by an almighty splash to his left as the trio of paladins goes crashing into the water, the tidal wave of water soaking all of them.  

“Ha ha!”  Coran grins triumphantly, feet planted on the tile and hands on the hips of his gaudy floral-print swim trunks.  “Victory is mine--! Oh quiznak!” He yelps as Pidge and Hunk reach for him, eager for justice to be served. 

“Hey mullet!”  

Keith pushes his wet hair out of his eyes and finds Lance standing nearby, up to his chest in the water and pointing at the red paladin.  “I challenge you!”

“To…?” Keith arches an eyebrow.  

“A contest!”  Lance declares.  He points to the other end of the pool, which is nearly the length of a football field.  “We both hold our breath and swim as far as we can before we need to come up for air. Whoever gets farther is the winner.”  

“That sounds dumb.”  Keith tells him flatly.  

Lance puts his hands on his hips, leaning forward with a smirk.  “Why? Scared you’ll lose?”

Keith snorts.  “Of course I wouldn’t lose.”  

“Prove it, then.”  Lance cross his arms and gives him a sly grin.

“Fine.”  Keith takes a spot against the pool wall next to Lance, grabbing the edge of the pool behind him.  

“Ready…” Lance gets into position as well.  “Set…”

They both press their feet against the tiled wall, bodies coiled tight like a spring.  

“ _ Go! _ ”  

Keith sucks in a deep breath and pushes off from the wall, diving under the water.  He keeps his hands out in front of him like a torpedo as he propels himself forward, leaving a trail of bubbles in his wake.  When he slows down, he sweeps his arms down to his sides, kicking as he starts to swim forward. Everything is blurry under the water, but he can see the dark shape to his left that is surely Lance, starting to gain on him.  Well, he can’t have that… Keith pushes forward and manages to pull ahead, grinning under the water. This is easy. 

He swims until his lungs ache for air, and then a little more.  When he can’t force himself to go any further, he breaks the surface and sucks in a deep breath of fresh air, gasping.  Pushing his wet hair out of his eyes, he looks around and finds that he is just a little over halfway across the football field-sized pool.  Huh. That was farther than he thought he would get. Best of all, Lance is way back at a quarter of the way across the pool, shaking his fist angrily.  “You cheated!”

“Did not!”  Keith calls back, casually freestyle-swimming back to him.  

“You had to!”  Lance protests.  “I can hold my breath underwater longer than anyone in my family.  What you did is impossible!” 

“Just because  _ you  _ can’t do it doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”  Keith points out. 

Lance just glares and him and smacks the surface of the water to send a splash his way.  Keith ducks under the water to avoid it, quicker than Lance anticipated. He pops back up and snorts at Lance sputtering indignantly at him, instead swimming back over to the rest of the team.  He spots Coran watching him curiously, brows pulled together. He can’t tell if the Altean man is frowning or not, as his wet moustache completely hides his mouth, but Coran quickly turns away to say something to the princess about getting in the water, and Keith shrugs it off. 

~~~~~~~

Until he started sleeping with Shiro every night, Keith didn’t usually wake up in the middle of the night.  He has always been a light sleeper, though, so it’s no surprise that he gets woken up by Shiro’s tossing and turning when he has nightmares.  It doesn’t happen every night, but tonight is one of those nights when it does.

A quiet whine breaks him out of his sleep, along with a rush of cold air.  Keith pries his eyes open to find that Shiro has rolled away from him and dragged the blankets with him.  His eyes twitch under his closed lids, focusing on sights only he can see. His jaw is clenched tight, and he has curled his body into a protective ball with his head ducked, barely on the pillow that his movements have shoved against the headboard at an odd angle.  

Keith sits up with a yawn, looking down at him carefully.  “Shiro?” 

Shiro flinches at the sound, even as quiet as it is.  Ah, one of those nights, then. He’ll have to be careful; there has been more than one night where he had to duck and avoid a glowing hand or a punch after he accidentally startled him out of a bad nightmare.  

Keith lays down on his side, keeping his distance on his half of the bed.  

“Takashi, can you hear me?”  He asks, voice slow and soothing.  “You’re on the castle-ship right now, far away from the Galra.  You’re on Allura’s castle-ship. All of us are here, and we’re all safe.  Me, Pidge, Hunk, Lance, Allura and Coran… and you. Everyone is okay. Hunk made space spaghetti tonight, remember?  The marinara sauce was green, but it actually tasted like spaghetti…” He keeps talking, going through the rest of the day, until Shiro flops onto his back, head twisting from side to side and brow furrowed.  Keith changes tactics. “What are you looking for, babe?” 

Shiro’s head turns toward him, eyes searching even under his closed lids.  “...Keith?”

“I’m right here, Shiro.”  He tells him. Shiro lets out a whimper and reaches his hand out, grasping at the sheets, and Keith moves closer immediately to wrap him up in a hug.  “I’ve got you, Takashi, I’m here…” One of his hands comes up to stroke through Shiro’s hair, fingertips massaging lightly in slow circles as he keeps murmuring reassurances to his boyfriend, who gradually quiets down again.  All of the sudden, though, Shiro jerks, startling back to wakefulness. He tenses instantly, and Keith pauses his ministrations to look down at him. “Shiro?”

“I… Did I wake you up?”  Shiro asks quietly, regret heavy in his words.  

“It’s okay.”  Keith kisses his forehead and goes back to stroking his hair.  “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Shiro sighs.  “Usual stuff. Blood.  Haggar. Fighting for my life.  The druids.” His right hand curls into a fist against Keith’s t-shirt.  

“I’ve got you,” Keith tightens his arms around him.  

“I know.”  Shiro takes a deep breath and slowly releases it, the puff of air tickling Keith’s collarbone where it peeks above the neckline of his shirt.  He relaxes, eyes falling closed again. “You don’t need to stay up. ‘M okay now.” He mumbles, pushing his nose into Keith’s chest. 

“I’ll fall asleep soon, don’t worry.”  Keith replies, only a half-truth. He won’t fall asleep until he is sure Shiro is resting peacefully again.  Until then, he is content to just hold him. 

Soon, though, he feels an uncomfortable pressure build in his bladder, that gets hard to ignore.  While his brain is aware that it is the middle of the night and he should be getting back to sleep, his body hasn’t seemed to have gotten the memo and thinks it is time to get up and start the day with his usual trip to the restroom first thing in the morning.  He lets out a sigh. 

“I need to go to the bathroom real quick,” he tells Shiro, who is barely even awake.  “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Shiro lets out a sleepy affirmation and allows Keith to carefully extricate himself from the hug.  Stifling a yawn in his hand, Keith slips out of bed and pads over to the en-suite bathroom. He is tired enough that he doesn’t even notice how easy it is to see where he is going; usually, he has to grope around in the dark for the door, get it shut, and then blind himself turning on the light in the bathroom, squinting past the bright light to see what he is doing before turning off the light again and blindly feeling his way through the dark back to bed, oftentimes tripping on some stray article of clothing or knocking his knees against the edge of the bed.  He doesn’t have much trouble tonight, though, and doesn’t even need to turn on the light to see what he is doing. He finishes up and washes his hands, nearly nodding off at the sink, and ends up accidentally dropping the bar of soap. It lands on the tile with a wet slap, skidding away. He frowns as he looks around the dark bathroom for it and finds it in the corner next to the shower. “There it is…” he scoops it up off the floor, rinses it off, and sets it back on its little tray before washing the remaining soap suds off his hands. Turning off the sink, he dries his hands on the hand-towel and reflexively touches the lightswitch on his way out, only to find it already off.  Not thinking much of it, he crosses the room and slips back into bed. 

“Mm,” Shiro pulls him close.  “You didn’t turn on the light.”  

“Didn’t need to,” Keith replies, sliding an arm around his waist.

“There better not be piss all over the toilet tomorrow.”  Shiro mumbles.

Keith snorts.  “There won’t be.  I could see what I was doing.”

“Mm,” Shiro makes a sleepy, indistinct hum, already halfway over the edge of unconsciousness.  Keith joins him within moments, and luckily, both of their dreams are pleasant ones this time.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* _Characters reassuring other characters after nightmares is my REAL kink..._
> 
> Also Keith, buddy, take note of these oddities... tsk tsk


	3. Pressure In Our Bodies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And herein lies the Explicit rating... (The shit I fucking googled for this… biology, zoology, anatomy, various dildos…)
> 
> (UPDATE: now with art!)

“ _Fuck_ , Keith!”  Shiro moans, throwing his head back.  Keith’s grip tightens on his hips and he thrusts in even deeper, even faster.  Shiro lets out a loud moan, arms giving out from under him. He leans his forehead on his crossed forearms, panting as Keith drives into his prostate over and over again.  From this angle, he can see Keith’s hand reach around his hip and grab him, fingers startlingly cool against the hot, hard flesh as he jerks him off. Shiro’s eyes fall closed and he’s coming within seconds, a moan tearing its way out of his throat.  Keith groans and thrusts into the tightening heat a few more times before going still, coming as well.

Neither of them move, both catching their breath for a few moments, then Keith slides out.  Shiro flops onto his side, feeling relaxed and floaty. Keith starts to move away, and Shiro reaches out to grab his wrist.  “Cuddles.”

“I need to throw the condom away,” Keith reminds him, a hint of laughter warming his voice.

Shiro grunts in acknowledgement.  “Then cuddles.” He tells him firmly, unable to be swayed.  

“Of course.”  Keith bends down to press a kiss to the crown of his head.  “I’ll be right back.” Once he turns away from Shiro, he lets himself frown, glancing downward.  What’s with the weird cramping feeling that suddenly started up about halfway through? It felt like he had run too far, except that instead of a stitch behind his ribs, the feeling was lower down in his abdomen.  He is sure he hadn’t been exercising _that_ strenuously just from sex.  He hopes he isn’t getting sick; that would be inconvenient, given how often they needed to hop into their lions and fight battles.  He can’t afford to get sick.

In the bathroom, he peels the condom off and starts to tie it into a knot when he notices something that makes his heart jump.  Tiny ridges cover the surface of his dick, from just under the head to just above the base, thinner and closer together near the top and becoming wider near the base.  He stares at it for a moment, shocked and confused, then hastily shuts the bathroom door so Shiro doesn’t look in. Throwing the used condom in the trash can, he picks up his now-flaccid cock and bends down as much as he can to look at it.  It doesn’t look like a rash or an STI, but it is definitely not normal. Even more bizarrely, the ridges start to disappear, sinking into his skin and leaving regular, smooth skin behind. In mere minutes, his cock looks totally normal, the ridges having mysteriously vanished.  He stares at it for a few minutes more, feeling utterly ridiculous as he just stands in the middle of the bathroom studying his limp dick like it’s a critical question on a midterm exam, but a part of him is still suspicious that the ridges might come back.

“...Keith?”  Shiro calls through the door, the sound making him jump.  

“Sorry, was just, uh…” he looks around the bathroom for an excuse, gaze settling on the toilet.  “...peeing.” Wow, great job, casanova. Very sexy.

Shiro seems to buy it, though.  “Okay. Take your time.”

Keith drags a hand down his face, watching his face turn red in the mirror.  Stab him with his own bayard, god damn it… “I’m, uh… almost done.”

He carefully turns his cock this way and that way, running a finger along the length of it just to make sure, but it seems the ridges are gone.  He flushes the toilet just to keep his cover, and washes his hands, then leaves the bathroom. Shiro is laying on his stomach on the bed, head turned to the side and eyes closed as he dozes off, so Keith pauses at the closet and digs out a clean pair of boxer briefs.  If those weird ridge things come back, he doesn’t want Shiro to see them. Definitely not before he figures out what they are.

“When was the last time I bottomed?”  Shiro asks casually. Keith glances over at him, confused by the question.  

“I don’t know, a week or so ago?  Two weeks?” He guesses. They switch it up regularly, but they have also been busy recently that they haven’t had time for much of anything in awhile.  “I think it was a couple of days before we went to the Blade’s headquarters.”

“Huh.”  Shiro looks thoughtful.  “Not that long, then. Weird.  Hey, can you grab a pair of underwear for me, too?”

Keith does so before closing the drawer.  “What’s weird about it?” He asks.

“Just felt like I hadn’t done it in a while.”  Shiro says, sitting up. “I don’t know, you felt bigger than I remembered.  And, damn, I don’t know what you were doing back there that was different, but it felt fucking _amazing_.”  

Keith freezes.  He shakes himself off before Shiro can notice it, grateful that he can’t hear the frantic pounding of his heart.  Those ridges might have had something to do with that, he thinks. “Huh. My technique must be improving.” He says, trying to play it off.  It totally wasn’t because his dick was going through some weird texture identity crisis.

“Well, if you want to improve it even more…” Shiro’s hand creeps up his thigh, sending a flash of panic through him.  Keith has to fight the urge to push his hand away. He can’t let him find out.

“I’m pretty tired from training today.”  He says, taking Shiro’s hand and threading their fingers together.  “I don’t think I have another left in me.”

“Mm, I’m pretty tired too.”  Shiro squeezes his hand and takes the other set of boxers from Keith.  “I’ll put these on, then let’s go to sleep.”

~~~~~~~

The next morning, Keith paces back and forth in front of the corridor where Coran’s room is, trying to work up the courage to go knock on the door.  He doesn’t want to have his conversation. He does _not_ want to have this conversation.  But he also can’t have sex until he figures this out, and there’s only so long Shiro will go before he gets suspicious of constant excuses.  Not that he would pressure Keith, but what he _would_ do is sit down and have a discussion, try to figure out what’s bothering Keith… he would probably think it was something wrong with himself, and Keith would _not_ stand for Shiro thinking any of this was his fault.  This was Keith’s issue, and he had to figure it out himself.  And if that means asking for help, well, then….

He growls and shoves his fingers through his hair, gripping the strands.  Maybe it would just be easier to conveniently fall on his own sword and die before he has to go through with this.  No, no, he could do this. He could--

“Oh, Keith?”  A voice speaks up behind him, making him jump about a mile in the air.  Coran blinks at him, looking a bit confused. “Whatever are you doing over here?”  

“Uh, looking for you, actually.”  Keith says. Time to bite the bullet.

Coran tilts his head.  “Is something wrong?”

“Maybe?”  Keith hedges.  Coran’s eyes narrow slightly in suspicion over the cryptic response.  Keith shifts his weight nervously. “I don’t know. It’s kind of a personal thing, though.  Can we go somewhere private?”

Coran beckons him to follow him down the corridor to his quarters, and Keith trails after him, pushing away the very tempting idea of launching himself out the airlock instead.  Coran’s room is a bit bigger than the paladin quarters, but not as spacious as Allura’s, and is full of bookshelves containing old-looking tomes squeezed between sleek data-pad tablets, various knick-knacks and bits of tech from other planets perched alongside the books.  Taking a seat in one of the two armchairs in the corner, Coran gestures for Keith to sit in the other. “So, what seems to be the trouble?”

“Well, it’s about… uh…” Keith makes a vague motion with his hands.  “Um… body stuff.”

Coran gives him an odd look.  “Not the _otir_ birds and the _ahihc_ bugs chat, is it?  I really thought you already heard that one, given the nature of your relationship with Shiro.”

“No, not that,” he really doesn’t need to hear the Altean version of the birds and the bees, thanks.  “It’s just… there might be something wrong with… my…” he gesticulates vaguely in the direction of his lap.  “Some kind of… bump things?”

“Ah, yes, that is a risk of being sexually active,”  Coran nods sagely. “If you’d like, I do have an informational video on STIs that you can watch on your own, if you’re not comfortable discuss--”

“I don’t think it’s an STI.”  Keith amends quickly. “Just, uh, do you have a paper and pencil?”  

Confused, Coran retrieves a pen and a pad of paper from the desk and hands it to him.  Keith props his knee up, shielding the paper from view, and sketches it to the best of his ability.  He’s more experienced sketching desert landscapes, to be honest, but this turns out pretty well, all things considered.  Steeling himself, he takes a deep breath and hands over the paper. “It looks like that, but only when I’m aroused. The rest of the time it looks normal.”

Coran, to his credit, does not look offended by being handed a drawing of a dick.  His brows pull together as he studies it. “Forgive me, but exactly what part of this is abnormal?”

“The ridges.”  Keith says. “They’re not usually there.  Is that normal for Alteans or something?”

“Not quite.”  Coran admits. “Ours feature bioluminescent markings similar to our facial markings and are unique to the individual, through which our natural quintessence can be emitted and mingle with that of our partner’s, enhancing the pleasure of the experience.”

Keith blinks.  “Biolum… I’m sorry, did you say your dick _glows_?”

“We’re not talking about me right now,” Coran huffs, handing him the drawing back.  “As for this, I must say that it bears a striking similarity to that of a Galra, which is hardly surprising, given your heritage.”  He stands up and peers at one of the bookshelves, running his finger along the spines. “I think I still have… ah, yes, here it is.”  Pulling a rather thick book off the shelf, he flips through it until he finds the page he is looking for. “Forgive the crudeness, but something like this.”  

Keith’s eyes widen as he looks at the page, which features a very naked, quite furry Galra.  His cock is thick and long, proportional to the rest of him, and covered in a series of ridges very similar to those Keith had seen on his own, if a little more prominent.  There is a speech bubble next to the Galra, featuring some words in an alien script that Keith can’t read, and he can see what looks like a leg of another Galra on the bed in the foreground right corner.  The opposite page features the same Galra, now buried deep inside another Galra on their knees with their backside in the air. There are more speech bubbles around the two of them, and Keith doesn’t have to be able to read them to get the general idea that they are mostly the same word repeated over and over.  He can take a wild guess at what said word -- or wordless sound -- it is. “Is this… porn?” He asks, wrinkling his nose. He really did not need to know that Coran has porn in his possession.

Coran snaps the book closed.  “You don’t have to look at it, if you’re going to take that tone.”

“Why do you have Galra porn?”  Keith asks, bewildered by this revelation.  

“For your information, it is a diverse anthology containing erotic stories featuring _many_ different alien species.”  Coran huffs. “It’s very inclusive.  The Taujeerians and Arusians are in it, as well, if you would like to see that.”

“I really would not.”  Keith has absolutely no inclination to see giant larvae-looking creatures mating, and would prefer to keep the little Arusians innocent in his mind.  “So, just to clarify, you’re currently giving me sexual health advice based on a porno book?”

“And my own personal experience, but we don’t happen to have those individuals at our disposal at the moment.”  Coran crosses his arms. He isn’t blushing, per se, but the teal marks on his cheeks have begun to glow just a little bit.  A distant part of Keith absently realizes that this is probably the Altean equivalent of blushing, while the larger part of him tries to wrap his head around the notion that apparently, the self-proclaimed _Coran, Coran, the gorgeous man_ has gotten around.

“Okay…” Keith says slowly, forcing himself to get back on track.  “So, assuming this is a normal thing for Galra, why is it just happening to me now?  Shouldn’t this have always been there, or at least showed up around puberty?”

“It is unusual that it does not maintain this appearance all the time.”  Coran muses. “And, like you said, it should have always looked that way.  When exactly did you start noticing this?”

“Last night, technically.”  Keith says. “We kind of haven’t, uh, been doing it a lot, lately, because we’re so busy.  Not since…” he trails off as it dawns on him. “Not since we went to the Blade of Marmora.”  

“So, then, the first time since you realized you were half Galra.”  Coran clarifies.

“Yeah, but…” Keith frowns, trying to piece it together.  “How would that work? How did just me knowing change it?”

“You said while you were there, you were told that you ‘awakened the blade’ and that your knife changed forms.”  Coran says thoughtfully. “Perhaps you awakening your blade prompted some sort of catalyst, awakening some more Galra characteristics in yourself, as well.”

Keith freezes.  “Then… I’m turning Galra?”  

“Not likely.  It is more probable that you had some Galra attributes lying dormant inside you already, and this simply brought them to light.”  Coran says.

“So, am I going to grow a tail or furry ears or turn purple?”  Keith asks, worried.

“I can’t say for certain,” Coran says slowly, which Keith does not find reassuring at all.  “But genetically speaking, it wouldn’t make much sense. Most genetic alleles that make up the typical Galra physical attributes are considered non-dominant compared to many other alien species.  It’s one of the reasons pure-bloodedness is so highly valued among many Galra, since when their genes are mixed with those of another species, the offspring will tend to be more recognizable as that other species than Galra.  In most cases, at least. Seeing as how Alteans are a chameleon-like people as far as physical attributes go, a Galra-Altean individual has a greater chance of having purple skin and yellow eyes, as our melanin alleles -- even as varied as they are among us -- are the least dominant of most known species in order to be the most adaptable.”  He pauses for a moment, seeming to think about something, then shakes it off and looks at Keith again. “But we don’t have any idea how Galra and human genes interact. I would give an educated guess that if something hasn’t changed by this point, it likely won’t. However, are there any other things you have noticed changing since your visit to the Blade of Marmora?”

Keith leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, frowning in thought.  All the little, barely-noticeable things that have been piling up are starting to make sense, now.  “I think I can see better in low light. My hearing is better, I think. My tastebuds seem to have changed a bit, too, they’re more sensitive now.  My teeth sort of ached for a few days afterward, but I don’t know why. They haven’t turned into fangs or anything. And I’ve had this weird sort of cramping feeling below my stomach, lately.”  Before, he had dismissed most everything as being related to his injuries from his trials. The pain from his injuries must have covered up or at least overshadowed any discomfort or pain of his body changing.  Becoming more Galra.

“Hmm…” Coran digs a small device out of his pocket.  “You’re lucky I started carrying one of these at all times, after Pidge had that allergy attack a few spicholian movements ago.  Stand up, and I’ll give you a quick scan.” After pressing a series of buttons on the device, he aims the scanner at the top of Keith’s head and slowly starts to move it downward.  He pauses and moves it over toward Keith’s ear, then back across his cheek. “Ah, you’ve developed quintessence glands. Interesting.”

“Quintessence what?”  Keith asks, looking cross-eyed at the device.  

“Galra produce a certain type of quintessence that works much like an aphrodisiac during sex, which is produced around here,” Coran points to either side of his own neck, right next to the lymph nodes.  “...and then, similar to the venom glands in snakes, it travels through subcutaneous tubes across the cheeks and down to your upper canine teeth, where it can then be injected into your partner through a light bite -- no need to break the skin, though.  It absorbs into the skin so contact alone is sufficient.”

“So I can roofie someone by biting them.”  Keith is shocked by this information.

“Of course not.  It has no effect on their consent or mental state,” Coran huffs, looking offended at the idea.  “It simply allows your natural quintessence to join with their own, increasing the pleasure for both parties.  And you don’t _have_ to do it, if you or your partner is uncomfortable with it.  It is considered common among Galra, however. In fact, the only time they don’t do it is when there is not any emotional attachment to their partner, so it is seen as a bit rude to not.”  

Keith releases a slow exhale through his nose.  Well, that explained the tooth-ache. “Alright. What else?”  

Coran slowly moves the scanner lower.  “Hm, I suspected this… Take a deep breath, as big as you can.”  He watches the screen as Keith does so, then nods. “Your lung capacity has increased slightly.  Galra typically have large chest cavities for maximum breathing capabilities, which helps them sprint faster and hold their breath for longer.  There is only so much that can be done, given your bone structure, but you should notice a bit of improvement.”

“I have,” he nods, thinking back on the incident with Lance at the pool.  

“And, moving on…” Coran lowers the scanner down his chest, his midsection, then suddenly pauses at his lower abdomen.  “Oh. That is a bit unexpected.”

“What?”  Keith asks, growing worried.  

Coran says nothing for several long, heart-stopping moments as he moves the scanner around to his hip and peers at him from the side.  “An oviduct that appears to have been underdeveloped but is now functional, and with it, eggs.”

Keith feels his chest go cold.  “ _Eggs_?!”

“There’s no reason to panic.”  Coran gives him an odd look. “They aren’t going to hurt you.”

“Can you get them out?  You’ve got to get them out!”  No reason to panic? He had eggs inside him, like some weird _Alien vs Predator_ creature!

“It is rather easy to get them out, but I doubt you would want me to do it.”  Coran informs him. “You would simply expel them during sexual activity. Most Galra insert them into their partner upon completion, where they then go through fertilization and incubation.  Of course, Galra who don’t have a partner may simulate that on their own and merely dispose of the eggs when they are finished.” He picks up the book again and Keith cringes internally, already dreading this.  Coran flips through the book before turning it around. “Like this.”

Keith looks at the page with an almost morbid curiosity.  There is just one Galra on this page, hand fisted around his cock in what was unmistakably mid-jerk-off.  The next panel shows him with his head thrown back in what looks like ecstasy while his cock seems to bulge in the middle of it.  In the third panel, an egg seems to be halfway out of the tip of his cock, and in the fourth, the egg has been plopped onto the bed with what looked like an absurd amount of fluid drawn around it. 

“It is a bit exaggerated, given the nature of the book, but you get the general idea.”  Coran says, when Keith tears his eyes away from the image.

“Okay…” Keith sits down in the armchair again, feeling lightheaded.  A mild twinge of something like pressure flares in his gut, and he realizes with a mixture of horror and fascination that it must be the eggs.  His eggs. He has eggs. Jeezus. “Okay… so, theoretically, someone can get knocked up from these eggs?” Shit, what kind of protection should he be taking?  What if it broke through the condom?

“Well, that depends on the partner.”  Coran says. “If they are equipped with certain body parts that are receptive to eggs -- a uterus or cloaca, for example -- then there is a chance that it will take and begin to develop.”  

“So… uh, Shiro and me…?”  Keith gestures vaguely.

“Shiro and _I_ , you mean.”  Coran arches an eyebrow.  

“Shiro and _you_?”  Keith’s eyes widen.  

Coran gives him a withering look.  “No, _you_ ought to say ‘Shiro and I’.  Youth, these days.” He shakes his head, sighing.  “And no, you two cannot conceive without a third party.”  

“ _Third_ \--?”  The sound that makes its way out of him is really more of a squeak than a proper word.

“One to provide the eggs, one to fertilize them, and another to incubate them.”  Coran gives him a bemused look. “That is how approximately seventy percent of Galra conceive, anyway.  Two parents are less common than three, since one partner would have to be capable of both fertilizing and incubating the egg.  It is the same for Alteans, and many alien species. Do humans conceive in pairs more often?”

“Almost exclusively, I think.”  Keith is still trying to wrap his head around this.  “There’s step-parents, but that’s through marriage. I don’t think there’s a biological way to do it.”

“How odd.”  Coran hums thoughtfully.

Keith crosses his legs, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.  Now that he knows what’s inside him, it’s harder to brush it off as a mere stomach ache.  He can practically _feel_ something in there, below his stomach and between his hips, something heavy.  “So is it just one egg, or…?”

“I believe five or six is a normal number.”  Coran muses. “Too many more or less can be a sign of a larger hormonal imbalance, actually.”  

“And how do you know when… the eggs are ready to…?”  He trails off, making a vague gesture pushing his splayed fingers away from himself.  

Coran regards him with an arched eyebrow.  “You will feel it. The build-up is generally over the course of a couple of quintants before you will need to expel them, either through intercourse or on your own.  Sometimes it is accompanied by a bit of light pain in the lower abdomen, change in mood, increased libido, and perhaps a headache. Pain is rarely severe or even noticeable, but just in case, there are appropriate medications in the infirmary, the drawer labeled in English.  I moved them down from a higher shelf so Pidge could reach them more easily, for a similar problem.”

Great.  Keith pushes his fingers through his hair, exhaling slowly.  “How often does this happen? Like, monthly?”

“Approximately every fifty to fifty-five quintants is considered normal.”  Coran says.

So not quite as bad as having a period would be.  “Is there anything else I should know?”

“Probably not.  Would you care to borrow this?”  Coran asks, holding up the book of alien porn.  

Keith eyes it warily.  “I think I’m good without it.”  

“Suit yourself.”  Coran shrugs and places the book back on the shelf.

“So, can we agree to never talk about this again?”  Keith asks, feeling his ears burn.

Coran tilts his head and regards him curiously.  “Pidge said the same thing about a topic of a similar nature, and Shiro as well when I found him looking around the infirmary for condoms.  You humans are aren’t very open about things that we Alteans regard as perfectly natural.” He shrugs again. “If you don’t wish to discuss it, that is fine, of course.  Should you have more questions or feel something is wrong, though, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Yeah,” Keith nods, standing up.  “Uh, thanks for the info, I guess.”  

~~~~~~~

Following his… _enlightening_ conversation with Coran, Keith heads up to the training deck to clear his head with a little exercise.  He goes a few rounds with the gladiator drone, darting and weaving with speed he doesn’t think he had before his visit to the Blades of Marmora’s headquarters.  Curious, on his water break, he makes a beeline back to the locker room and walks into it without turning on the lights. Things are a little shadowy, and tinged violet, but he has little trouble seeing.  He can make out the lines between the tiles, the enameled V’s on the lockers -- although the colors are hard to distinguish -- and even the creases and folds of the towel someone left crumpled next to the laundry hamper.  

The door opens behind him with a _whoosh_ and a flood of dim light from the hall, just a moment before the overhead light blinds him with a burst of pain behind his eyes.  The sensation is gone just as quickly as it came, and his eyes adjust far quicker than he knows is humanly possible, enabling him to see Lance in the doorway with his hand over the lightswitch.  “...Why are you standing around in the dark?” Lance asks, looking confused.

“No reason.”  Keith snaps, grabbing his jacket out of his locker and shutting the door.  “Just cleaning up.”

Lance arches an eyebrow and gives him an odd look on the way to his own locker.  “Like the city of Austin, glad to see you’re keeping it weird.”

Keith doesn’t dignify that with a response and just leaves the room.  He feels wound-up and antsy, and not just from the run-in with Lance. Too full of energy.  Tense. Dare he say it, horny. And, based on the fact that Coran had been able to _see_ the eggs on his scanner, it was probably about time to get rid of them.  A brief image flashes across his mind of him pounding into Shiro like that Galra in that book, thrusting hard and deep into him as his boyfriend cries out from being from being stuffed full of Keith’s eggs… He shakes the idea away, even as his cock twitches in interest.  No, he wasn’t bringing this up with Shiro, probably ever but _definitely_ not until he had a better idea of what was going on.  Shiro would undoubtedly think it was weird. It _is_ weird, definitely.  But… he can’t deny that it is also just a little bit hot, too.  In a weird way that makes his insides squirm.

He shakes himself off, pushing his fingers through his hair.  Focus. Find somewhere private, get rid of the eggs, then have sex.  In that order. Preferably sooner rather than later.

Thankfully, he manages not to run into anyone else on his way back to his room.  For some time now, he and Shiro have been sleeping together in Shiro’s room, leaving his own room pretty vacant.  The closet is empty, the bed hasn’t been used in months, and he nearly taps in the wrong code to unlock the door. But there is much less chance of being walked in on here.  

Once inside, Keith locks the door and crosses the room to the small, en-suite bathroom, already unbuckling his belt.  He locks the bathroom door as well, just for good measure, and leans back against the door as he palms himself through his pants.  His other hand claps over his mouth to muffle a groan. He hasn’t done this in ages, hasn’t _needed_ to, since he and Shiro got together.  Normally, his own hand would be poor competition in comparison to Shiro’s dexterous tongue, large, warm left hand, or equally large, cool metallic right hand… (fuck, now he was even _more_ turned on), but something about the anticipation, the newness of what was coming, edged with just a touch of nerves, is almost enough to make up for it being solo.  

Keith unbuttons his pants and shoves them and his boxer briefs down enough to look at his cock, and he feels a funny little jerk in the pit of his stomach when he finds the beginning of those ridges forming under the skin of his half-hard cock.  He peels off one of his fingerless leather gloves and drops it carelessly to the floor as he wraps his hand around his cock and strokes, letting out a moan at the sensation. It doesn’t take long to get to full hardness, and the ridges quickly become more prominent and defined under his hands.  He leans back on his shoulders against the door and thrusts into his fist, a low whine building in his throat at the delicious friction caused by the ridges. God, if it feels this good in just his hand, he wonders what it will feel like inside Shiro -- what it will feel like _for_ Shiro -- rubbing the insides of his walls and driving both of them crazy.  Keith looks down at his cock again, biting his lip. He had never really paid much attention to the size of it, before, but it does seem to be a bit bigger, like Shiro mentioned.  Not by much, barely enough to be noticeable. Just a little longer, just a little thicker. All the more better to fuck his boyfriend with, though. Keith’s knees feel weak as he thinks about stretching Shiro wider, ridges rubbing over his prostate with every thrust, hearing him cry out in pleasure and drop to his chest on the bed, hands fisting in the sheets as Keith holds his hips up in an iron grip to keep fucking deep into him, so much so that Shiro will practically be able to feel him in his stomach, filling him up…

It’s that image that does it for him, and Keith cries out as a wave of hot pleasure washes over him, hips jerking forward into his fist.  He blinks and looks down at his hand -- sticky with precome but nothing else -- in confusion for a moment, angry that he had to have a dry orgasm _now of all times_ … but then he feels something shift low in his gut and the base of his cock seems to swell just a little bit, growing even harder like a knot.  The bulge travels up his shaft, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, before the tip of his cock stretches impossibly wide around something clear and shiny.  A moment later, the egg pops out with a surprising amount of force, and he scrambles to catch it in his hands. It’s a bit smaller than a chicken egg and mostly whitish-clear with a bit of a pearlescent tint to it, and feels like there is a thin, semi-hard shell over something squishy.  He doesn’t get much time to examine it more than that, though, as another is already slowly moving up his shaft. He looks around the bathroom in mild panic for a moment -- he can’t hold _all_ of these in his hand -- before dropping the egg in the sink basin next to him to deal with later.  The second egg pops out like the first, trailing some sort of slick fluid, and he leans back heavily against the door with a groan; every egg brings with it a feeling not unlike an orgasm, and his knees feel ready to give out by the fourth one.  They do, at the fifth, and he sinks to the floor muffling a cry in his other hand as the egg slips free. Panting and nearly shaking with pleasure, he waits, but that seems to have been the last one. His cock softens, still leaking a bit of fluid that feels slicker and less sticky than cum, and the ridges along his cock sink back into the flesh and leave him looking human again, the egg in his hand the only evidence that he was something more.  

He holds it up to the light, tilting it to get a better look.  It is about three or three and a half centimeters at its widest point, rounder at one end and more tapered at the other.  The pearlescent tint throws off shades of purple, teal, and orange that seem to shift and change as he turns his hand slightly, like the surface of a soap bubble.  He squeezes it between his fingers, and finds that the semi-hard shell covering the outside has a bit of give to it, and it seems to be gelatinous underneath. It’s surprisingly dense for its size, sitting heavily in the palm of his hand.  He reaches up and drops it into the sink with the others, where it lands with a wet _splat_.  Wiping his hand off on the towel next to the sink, he gets to his feet and tucks himself back into his boxers and pants.  Five small eggs sit in the sink basin, looking bizarrely innocent. He has a hard time believing those just came out of him.  

It has been a weird day.

Coran said he could just dispose of them, so he gathers the slippery eggs up in his hands and sets them in the trash chute in the corner, which looks a bit like a dumbwaiter.  He closes the door and presses the button, and there is a beep followed by a rush of air as they are sucked away. Opening the door again, he peeks inside and sees that all that is left is a bit of slick on the metal floor, the only sign of anything abnormal having been there.  

As he passes by the mirror on his way out, he stops and leans closer, baring his teeth.  Was it just a trick of the light, or did his canines look just a little bit longer? He turns his head this way and that, but it isn’t until he tilts his head back that he notices two tiny, nearly invisible holes in the bottom points of his canines.  It looks like there is a miniscule bubble of some sort of liquid eaking out of them. Curious, he lifts his hand and closes his teeth around the meat of his hand between his index finger and thumb, biting lightly. A sudden rush of heat runs down his arm and down his chest, the two converging in his gut and exploding like a firework.  His cock twitches in interest, even though he knows he’s too tired to go another round after pushing out all those eggs.

Yeah.  It’s been a very weird day.    

He notices, as he is leaving the bathroom, that he no longer feels horny, the previous activity having seemingly sated his appetite for sex in a way that simple masturbation usually didn’t.  He feels a bit disappointed at that. Still, he heads off in search for Shiro, wanting to be with him despite feeling a little guilty for hiding this from him. Maybe he’ll tell him, sometime.  After he gets used to the idea himself, and can figure out a way to bring it up without sounding weird and scaring Shiro off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (UPDATE: I tried to embed the artwork directly into the fic like I've seen other people do and I can't figure it out. So here is the [link](https://the-dark-tomato-king.tumblr.com/post/174273245990/my-contribution-to-the-vld-kink-bang-the-lovely), please go check it out!)
> 
> I may have spent too long thinking about the biological and genetic components of this (not that I have a bio background beyond basic stuff, disclaimer). But really, one I got started thinking about it, I’m curious. If Lotor and his generals are supposedly half-Galra, why do they look so distinctly not-Galra, and different from each other and regular Galra? Ezor barely even looks Galra at all, aside from proportions. Narti’s feet, tail, and face look distinctly not Galra. Zethrid has the height and fluffy ears that some Galra like Sendak have, but the coloring is also much brighter than typical Galra, and the shape of them is quite different. Acxa and Lotor just look like purplish-blue or purple-dyed Altean/hominids; aside from pointy ears, they don’t have the same facial features that other Galra seem to have. And even among full-blooded (at least that we know) Galra, some have pupils and some don't! Why?? *slams fist on the desk* SHOW US THE PUNNET SQUARES, VLD STAFF


	4. An Equation Heaven Sent

 

Weeks pass.  Keith doesn’t tell Shiro about the eggs.  

He almost --  _ almost  _ \-- tells him, when the subject of the Galra dick-ridges comes up.  That’s something he can only hide for so long by keeping his clothes mostly on or being up against a wall while Shiro fucks him from behind, subtly batting his boyfriend’s hand away from his cock so he doesn’t feel it.  Eventually, Shiro starts to notice, and asks Keith if something is wrong. He tells him, then, face flaming red and nerves churning in his gut, but Shiro takes the news with surprising enthusiasm. The ensuing demonstration of how the ridges appear turns into the weirdest and yet best blow-job either has had.  From then on, it becomes common for Shiro to jerk him off while he fucks Keith, fingers teasing at the ridges, or for Keith to fuck into him with a leg thrown over his shoulder, opening him up even wider and letting the ridges drag against his inner walls, Shiro arching his back and shouting in ecstasy at the sensation.  

Still, though, he tells Shiro only part of what Coran told him about his body; everything except the eggs.  A Galra dick is one thing, but Galra eggs just seem like a whole other can of space-worms. He tells himself he has some time, and that there’s no use explaining it while he doesn’t even have more of them.  Can’t show what’s not there, after all. Or, at least, that’s the excuse that lets him sleep at night. 

But then one day in the middle of training, he feels a twinge of dull pain low between his hips, reminding him that he can’t put this off forever.  Time is a little harder to keep track of, in space, but it does feel like it has been a couple of months since the last incident. He feels it again, like an annoying cramp, and he makes a face.  Stupid body…

Hunk notices the sour twist of his mouth and gives him a sidelong look.  “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”  Keith schools his expression back to neutral.  “Just a headache.” Not entirely untrue -- he did wake up with a bit of a migraine -- but that’s just another one of the symptoms Coran had mentioned.

Hunk opens his mouth like he’s about to say something else, when a loud, pained shout cuts him off as Pidge goes slamming into the wall.  Lance lets out a curse and shoots the two training gladiators with his bayard, a direct hit to the chest shutting them down for thirty ticks.  When Pidge doesn’t move for several seconds, Shiro runs over to her. “Pidge! Are you okay?” 

With what looks like a great amount of effort, she pushes herself up to her hands and knees.  There’s a dent in her armor from the gladiator’s kick, right over her lower back. She throws a murderous glare towards Lance.  “You were  _ supposed  _ to be guarding my back.”  Her voice is strained and quiet, but low and deadly.  Somehow, it is worse than if she were shouting. 

“I know, I’m sorry.”  Lance casts a quick look at the gladiators, already starting to boot back up.  “Can you get up? We’ve only got about fifteen more ticks before these things turn on again…”  

Rage flashes in Pidge’s eyes.  She gets to her feet, hunched over slightly, and looks like she is about to run forward and deck him square in the jaw.  Instead, she just throws her bayard at him. The whole bayard. Lance jumps out of its path, and it clatters to the floor, green blades disintegrating.  “Deal with it yourself.” She snaps, heading for the door. She slams her hand on the touch-pad and storms out without waiting for a response. The doors slide shut behind her.  

No one moves for several long moments, stunned.  It isn’t like Pidge to walk out of training like that.  They’ve all seen her power through fatigue and push through pain, in practices and battles alike.  A kick to the back like that might have knocked the wind out of her, but they had seen her get thrown into a wall and pop right back up before.  What was different, this time?

Another dull twinge of pain flares up in Keith’s lower back.  Stupid eggs. He blinks, something dawning on him. Oh. What if…?

The gladiators start back up with a mechanical  _ whirr _ , and Lance yelps, shouldering his gun again.  “Guys, a little help here!” He backs away from the two gladiators, gun flicking from one to the other as they converge on him.  

“I’ve got you.”  Shiro lunges forward, hand glowing, and takes up Pidge’s position guarding Lance’s back as the two gladiators attack them. 

Hunk glances in the direction of the doors.  “I’m going to go check on Pidge.” He tells Keith quietly, pushing away from the wall.  “I think I might know what’s wrong.” 

Keith nods, feeling like he has a pretty good idea, too.  “Yeah, make sure she’s okay.”

As Hunk leaves, Keith crosses his arms and leans back against the wall, watching Shiro and Lance take on the gladiators.  Well, truthfully, he’s just watching Shiro. He can’t help it, though; there’s a certain beauty and grace in the way Shiro fights, a raw power that can’t be matched.  He ducks, dodges, kicks, strikes at the gladiator with the fluidity and power of air trapped in a tornado. His right hand glows bright, leaving a trail of purple-white light in its wake and cascading a shower of sparks when it strikes against the gladiator’s polearm.  Even with sweat making his white bangs stick to his forehead, he looks so radiant that Keith feels his breath catch in his throat. 

A powerful punch to the center of the gladiator’s torso, and it shuts down again for another thirty ticks.  Shiro doesn’t wait, whirling around to grab the arm of the other gladiator when Lance dodges its strike. He spins it and throws the heavy metal drone to the floor with a slam that rattles the ground and shakes Keith to his core.   _ My mate is strong,  _ he thinks appreciatively as warmth blooms in his gut.

Wait.  

What?

He blinks, stunned by his own thoughts.   _ Mate _ ?  When has he ever thought of Shiro as his mate?  

...A better question might be, why  _ hasn’t _ he?

No.  No, Shiro is his  _ boyfriend _ .  Lover, partner, soulmate if he wanted to be cheesy.  But mate? Humans don’t have mates. Although… technically, he isn’t  _ just  _ human.  If Galra have mates, though… But that still wouldn’t explain why he thought that completely out of the blue.  He looks down at his midsection, frowning.  _ What kind of weird primal urges are you giving me _ ?  

“I think that’s enough for today,” Shiro announces, breaking Keith out of his thoughts.  He takes his helmet off, hair tousled and messy and just begging for Keith to run his fingers through it.  Shiro holds out a hand to help Lance to his feet, and part of Keith is very tempted to growl possessively. He settles for just pushing away from the wall and handing Shiro a water pouch, while Lance huffs something about playing favorites and walks over to the cooler to grab one for himself.  

The three of them leave the training deck, and Keith almost wishes they could stay longer.  He feels chock-full of pent-up energy, humming through his veins like lightning. He’s not sure if he wants to go another few rounds with the training gladiator or pin Shiro up against the wall and go a few very different kind of rounds with him.  Leaning more toward the second one, honestly. 

On their way to find the other two, Keith feels another dull twinge of pain, this time in the front right side, right at the front of his hip socket.  Yeesh, alright, message received, calm down already. He grimaces and rubs at the spot impatiently, and feels something solid shift inside him, like metal marbles rolling in a bag.  He jerks his fingers back, shocked. 

Shiro gives him a weird look.  “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”  Keith brushes it off.  “Just a little sore.” 

“That gladiator kicked the crap out of you, huh?”  Lance leans around Shiro to smirk at him. “Good thing you had Hunk watching your back.”

Keith shoots him an icy glare.  “At least I was able to finish off my own gladiator.  Shiro took down both of yours.” 

Lance opens his mouth to retort, but Shiro cuts him off.  “Alright, everyone had their ups and downs at practice today.  You both did very well.”

Lance lets out a  _ hmph _ , crossing his arms.  Keith rolls his eyes.

If they thought training ended on a low note, the meeting afterward turns out to be a nosedive into the depths of the Marianas Trench.  Keith’s, and Hunk’s, suspicions about what is bothering Pidge turns out to be right. Curled up on the couch with a hot water bottle wedged between the couch and her lower back and glaring at an alien movie playing on her laptop in front of her, she looks about as well as a person can when they’ve been kicked directly in the ovaries during the one point in the month when said organs are already in the most pain.  Shiro asks if she needs anything, but Hunk is already making her some soup in the kitchen, so the group takes a seat on the couches and a tense quiet settles over the lounge, broken only by the gurgling alien dialogue of the movie on the laptop.

The nosedive plummets the moment Lance opens his mouth to ask Pidge how many times this has happened since they left Earth, under the assertion that it’s a monthly event and he wants to know how long they’ve been away from home.  Whatever fragile peace they have left of the day is shattered; Keith and Shiro freeze, staring at the blue paladin in horror. Pidge’s eyes snap up and she bites out something about it not being any of his business and that her uterus is not his goddamn calendar.  Lance mutters something under his breath about not needing to be a bitch about it, and before Pidge can leap up and sock him across the face, Keith finds himself at the end of his patience and steps up, telling Lance that it’s not his business and he has no right to ask about such a thing.  Part of it is indignation on Pidge’s behalf, but another part of it is more personal; Keith remembers how Coran said his own eggs would come up on a fifty-quintant based cycle. If someone demanded to know about Keith’s egg cycle, especially when his hormones were out of whack and he was feeling like crap already, he would probably straight-up punch them.  He would definitely feel embarrassed about it being pointed out.

Lance’s barbed defense gets him cut off by Shiro, who beckons the blue paladin to follow him, tone brokering no room for excuse.  Lance trails after him with his hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders hunched up defensively. After checking to make sure Pidge is okay, Keith offers to carry her stuff to the kitchen where Hunk is finishing up with the soup.  

“What’s up with you?”  Pidge asks him, hugging her hot water bottle to her stomach.  “Usually you just stay in your own lane, but you’re being weirdly nice to me.”  

“Maybe I just know how it feels to be under the weather for something you have no control over.”  He says quietly, setting her laptop on the dining table and pulling out a chair for her. 

“Cryptic answer.  I’m intrigued.” Pidge says.  

He snorts quietly.  “Not really something I like discussing.”  

She arches an eyebrow but doesn’t press him for details.  

Keith gives Pidge’s shoulder a squeeze and leaves her in Hunk’s care while he heads back to Shiro’s room.  Another cramp flares up in the front of his hip, and he makes a face down at his midsection in annoyance. Great, he still had to deal with this issue.  He cautiously presses down on the cramp, and feels the eggs shift inside him again, the sensation both disconcerting and arousing. His cock twitches in his pants, eager to get them out.  He’ll need to do it soon.

~~~~~~~

Alone in Shiro’s room, Keith paces back and forth and over his options in his mind.  He can easily just retreat to his old room and take care of it himself, giving him another fifty or so days to come up with a way to broach the subject with Shiro.  But then when he eventually does tell him, Shiro might wonder why he waited two whole cycles to tell him, and might even think Keith didn’t trust him. Or he could just not tell him, ever.  But he doesn’t want to keep something this big from Shiro. Even though it isn’t technically lying, it isn’t exactly being truthful, either. He would feel guilty, and Shiro would probably find out anyway, and then Shiro would be disappointed and hurt that Keith didn’t tell him.  

Okay, so hypothetically, telling him could go a couple of ways.  Shiro might think it was really weird and want nothing to do with it, and hopefully it wouldn’t break their relationship (that thought alone has him panicking and tempted to go back to the never-telling-him option).  Or, Shiro might not be completely disgusted by it, and Keith could, possibly, just jerk himself off and Shiro could see what he was getting into. Or…

Keith shakes his head.  No, as tempting as the idea of fucking Shiro until he’s full of Keith’s eggs is, he can’t get his hopes up that Shiro will go along with it.  God, does he ever want to, but he’s afraid that is asking too much of his boyfriend. But, maybe…

The door slides open behind him and Shiro enters, door smoothly closing behind him.  “Hey,” he pushes a hand through his hair, looking tired. “Thanks for talking to Pidge with Hunk.  She says she’s fine now, she just wants to move on and have things go back to normal.” 

“What did you tell Lance?”  Keith asks, crossing his arms.

“Basically the same thing you did, but less profanity.”  Shiro says, eyes studying Keith’s face like he is a puzzle to piece together.  “Everything okay with you? It’s not like you to blow up like that.”

“I just didn’t like him bothering Pidge over something so personal.”  Keith says, looking away. Shiro says nothing, as if he knows that isn’t the whole story and is waiting for more.  Heart pounding, Keith takes a deep breath. “And… maybe I kind of get how Pidge feels, a little bit.” 

Shiro tilts his head just slightly, confused.  “How so?”

Keith shifts his weight, uncomfortable.  “Maybe I’m going through it, too. I mean, it’s not the same…” Keith hedges.  “Just… the cycle thing. Eggs. Some pain. Hormones. Stuff like that.”

Shiro blinks.  “Keith…” he says slowly.  “I know for a fact that you are biologically male.”

“Yeah, but I’m also biologically half Galra.”  Keith looks down at his feet. “And apparently… Galra males have eggs.  And those eggs have to come out about every fifty days or so. So…” he lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug.  “I could kinda see where Pidge was coming from, thinking that was an invasive question.” 

“You…” Keith can practically  _ feel  _ Shiro’s gaze on him.  “You… have eggs?”

Keith nods, trying to ignore the way his nerves are tying his stomach into a tight ball.  “Yeah. Ever since we went to the Blade of Marmora, some things have been… different. Coran thinks awakening the blade must have tripped something in me, awakened some more Galra attributes that were dormant or something.”  He takes a deep breath before going on; best to get it all out at once. “I already went through one cycle on my own. Jerked myself off until the eggs came out and then I threw them out as soon as I was done. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but… I was kind of freaked out myself, and needed to figure it out.  I didn’t want you to think it creepy or weird.”

Hands take hold of his own, and he looks up to find Shiro smiling softly at him.  “Keith, if it’s a natural part of your body, then of course I won’t think badly of it.  I love you, and that won’t change just because your body goes through a change.”

“Are you sure?”  Keith asks, still uncertain.  “Objectively, you know, basically ejaculating eggs once every few months is pretty weird.”

Shiro’s smile slips and his eyes widen at his words, and Keith feels a brief moment of sheer panic when Shiro looks off to the side.  Then he notices he’s blushing. 

“...What?”  

“Nothing.”  Shiro says quickly, offering him a smile.  “So, to clarify: you have eggs, and once every fifty days they’re supposed to come out when you cum, and last time you accomplished that by jerking off.”  When Keith nods, he goes on. “Are they fertilized? Will they actually grow into anything?”

“No, and according to Coran, there’s no chance of them developing without a uterus.”  Keith says. “I guess it’s basically like a really, really big sperm, sort of. Just another thing to clean up and throw out.”

“How big?”  Shiro asks. Keith holds his fingers about three centimeters apart, just a little smaller than a chicken egg.  Shiro’s eyes widen. “Wow. Just one?”

“Five or six.”  Keith replies, wondering if that will be too many.  

Shiro blushes.  “Oh.” He clears his throat.  “So, next time, would you want to… in me…?”

“Would  _ you  _ want to?”  Keith checks.  This sounds too good to be true.

“I would not say I was opposed to the idea.”  Shiro’s voice is just a touch higher and he looks away when he says it.

“Why?”  Keith asks, suspicious.

“No reason.”  The blush staining his cheeks says otherwise.

Keith frowns at the obvious lie, not buying it for a moment.  “What is it?”

“It’s… dumb.  Embarrassing.”  Shiro says, trying to shrug it off.  

“Hey,” Keith squeezes his hands.  “I told you my embarrassing thing.  I promise I won’t make fun of you, just like you didn’t make fun of me.”

Shiro deflates.  “I… guess.” He takes a deep breath.  “Before the Kerberos mission, long before I even entered the Garrison, I used to have… a bit of a fantasy about getting abducted by aliens.  Tractor beams, probing, tentacles… every cliché in the book. I blame it on watching too many B-list alien movies growing up coinciding with the weird sexual awakening that comes with puberty, to be honest.  And… I’d be lying if I said aliens implanting eggs in me never made an appearance in those fantasies. I mean, that’s not at all why I became a space expedition pilot; by the time I applied to the Garrison, I wasn’t even sure I  _ believed  _ in aliens anymore, it was just a fantasy to indulge in when I jerked off, sometimes.”  He covers his reddening face with a hand and peeks out at Keith between his fingers. “It’s weird, right?”

“Not any weirder than any of the other shit we do.”  Keith points out, squeezing the hand in his. “We fly giant robot lions that can turn into one massive robot, after all.”    

Shiro offers him a small smile at that.  “Yeah, so, I guess what I’m saying is… If you’re open to the idea of putting the eggs in someone, I’m more than open to the idea of being that someone.  If you’re interested.”

“I am  _ very  _ interested.”  Keith assures him, stepping closer and putting his hands on his boyfriend’s waist.  “Question about the alien fantasies, though: are you thinking, like, roleplay, or…?”  Acting is really not one of his strong suits. 

Shiro laughs quietly.  “To be honest, I think actually getting abducted by aliens kind of killed that aspect of the fantasy.  It ended up being a lot less fun in real life than crappy movies made it out to be.” His hands slip around Keith’s waist, fingertips brushing over the skin of his lower back under his t-shirt.  Keith wonders if he has any idea that the eggs are practically right under his fingers. “So no, alien abduction roleplay might be off the table, for PTSD reasons. But alien sex with my boyfriend, who I already love?  I think that’s quickly becoming my new fantasy.” 

Keith gives him a small smile.  “And… there’s one more thing.” He takes a deep breath.  “My teeth. They have an aphrodisiac in them. Kind of like a snake?  But instead of venom it just makes you feel good. Some kind of quintessence exchange thing.”

Shiro blinks, his lips parting slightly as his eyes widen a bit.  “Is  _ that  _ why you stopped giving me hickeys?”  

“...Yeah.”  Keith admits.  “Coran says it doesn’t mess with consent at all, and I did try it on my hand and it was fine, but, I don’t know, I didn’t want you to think it’s weird.”

“If it doesn’t impair the ability to consent, and it feels good, I’d be willing to try it.”  Shiro says. “Mark me up, dracula.” 

Keith snorts quietly in amusement.  “I think it’s just when I’m turned on.”

Shiro’s eyebrows lift and he slips his hands down to rest on Keith’s backside, pulling him closer.  “I can help with that...” 


	5. Feel It On Me, Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the POV shift. Keith already got to experience the eggs so now it’s Shiro’s turn, even though this whole fic has been Keith’s POV up til now. o_o;
> 
> (UPDATE: now with artwork!)

Shiro presses a kiss to Keith’s forehead, loving that he is at the perfect height to do so, then leans down and kisses his lips.  Keith links his arms around the back of Shiro’s neck, smirking into the kiss as he keeps his lips closed for a bit, making Shiro work for it a little.  Shiro lets out an amused huff and retaliates by grabbing a handful of Keith’s ass and swallowing the gasp he gets in response. Keith chuckles and kisses him more fully, using his grip around Shiro to tug him as he walks both of them backwards towards the bed.  He lets himself fall back onto the bed, bouncing a little on the mattress, and Shiro eagerly climbs on top of him. His hand slides down Keith’s chest, pausing to rub at a nipple through the fabric of his t-shirt before continuing down his toned stomach and abs.  “So there are really eggs inside you?” He asks, breath puffing against Keith’s lips. 

“Yeah,” Keith reaches down and places a hand over Shiro’s, pressing down lightly.  “Right there.” He can feel…  _ something _ , under the layer of corded muscle.  Something hard, like a few steel marbles.  

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Shiro’s breath leaves him in a rush and he kisses Keith again, hand sliding back up his t-shirt and rucking it up.  “You’re wearing too many clothes for this.” 

“You’re worse than I am.”  Keith quips, sliding down the zipper of Shiro’s vest.  Shiro snorts in amusement and shrugs off his vest before pulling Keith’s shirt off.  He goes in for another kiss, but Keith stops him with a hand on his chest and a pout on his lips.  “No more kisses for you until you get that shirt off.” 

Shiro lets out a soft chuckle, sitting back to work the form-fitting gray shirt off.  He likes that it affords him full mobility while still covering all the scars he doesn’t want to bare outside the privacy of his bedroom, but Keith does have a point, it’s a little difficult to get off and it requires a bit of not-so-sexy wiggling to get it over his broad shoulders (although Keith has disagreed with that and once said that nothing, not even wiggling like a cat with its head stuck in a kleenex box, can diminish Shiro’s sexiness).  Once the shirt has been tossed aside, he smooths his ruffled hair down again and grins wryly at his boyfriend. “Do I get my kiss now?” 

“Once you take off your pants, too.”  Keith says, lifting his chin as if in challenge.

Shiro has never gotten his pants and underwear off faster.  

Fully naked, he tosses the clothes onto the growing pile on the floor beside them and kisses the laughter off of Keith’s lips.  “Now it’s your turn…” His fingers -- warm on the left, cool on the right -- trail down Keith’s waist and hips and pop open the button of his pants.  Keith lifts his hips up, and Shiro tugs the pants down his legs. His pants quickly join his shirt and Shiro’s clothes on the floor, while Shiro surges forward to kiss him again.  

He’ll never get over how Keith kisses; hot and searing like fire, versatile and ever-changing as a river.  Sometimes he’s explosive and bright and other times he’s glowing and slow-burning, seeping into the cracks in Shiro’s soul and filling him up with warmth… He is a volcano, passion hidden under layers of rock but always there, and Shiro would gladly burn up in his eruption.    

Keith flips them over, pressing Shiro into the blankets as he kisses him.  He rolls his hips against Shiro’s, their dicks sliding together and drawing groans out of both of them.  

“You want me to mate you?”  Keith’s voice comes out husky, practically a growl, and Shiro’s vision nearly whites out.  Keith nips at his lips, a flash of teeth that is quickly overpowered by some strange, intense pleasure radiating from the point he bit.  Shiro moans and pulls Keith closer by the ass, rolling his hips up to grind their cocks together. Keith’s lips leave his own only to trail over the sharp cut of his cheekbone and down to the sensitive skin below his ear.  “You want me to pound you until you can’t even remember your own name? Want me to fill you up? Fuck all my eggs deep into you while you take them like the good mate you are?” 

“ _ Fuck _ , yes,” Shiro gasps.  He’s too far gone to question why Keith is calling him his ‘mate’ or why that’s turning him on so much, only noticing that it lights a fire inside him and Keith needs to  _ keep doing it _ .  “Mate me, baby, fill me up… I’m yours…”

“Mine.”  Keith growls, teeth skimming over his throat and sending pleasure branching through him like forks of lightning in a summer storm.  He moves down, tonguing the hollow of his collarbone and lightly running his blunt nails down Shiro’s chest. He licks a broad stripe over one nipple while his free hand rubs the other to hardness.  Once both nipples are peaked and flushed from the teasing, he closes his mouth around the left bud and lets his teeth scrape over the sensitive skin. Both of them let out matching moans as the tingling pleasure shoots straight to both of their hearts, enveloping their chests before trickling down to their cocks.  

“Keith,  _ please _ …” Shiro hooks a leg around him to try and pull him closer.  Fuck, those ridges feel so good rubbing against his own cock.  “I need you, baby…” 

Keith surges forward for one more hard kiss.  By the time he pulls back, Shiro feels like he is drowning in the best way possible, dizzy with pleasure.  “Turn around.” Keith tells him, climbing off to reach for the bedside drawer. His hand brushes over the box of condoms they stole from the med bay, but this time he only takes the bottle of lube (also stolen from the med bay) before shutting the drawer.

Shiro is ready for him on his hands and knees when he turns back to him.  He eyes Keith’s cock, flushed and with ridges fully protruding as they line his length.  He feels torn; he wants that hot weight on his tongue, stretching his mouth until his jaw aches, wants to run his tongue over the sensitive ridges… but he also wants it inside him, filling him so perfectly and the ridges rubbing him in that way that he has grown addicted to the past couple of months.  

Well, Shiro supposes, the blowjob can always wait until round two.  He wonders what it would feel like, those ridges forming from the movements of his tongue as the cock hardened in his mouth.

Keith slides a warm hand up the length of Shiro’s back, gently pushing him down until he’s resting on his elbows.  Humming in satisfaction, he closes his hand around the base of Shiro’s neck, pushing his thumb and fingers into the always-too-tense muscles there.  “Tell me if it gets to be too much, okay? I can pull out.” 

Shiro nods dutifully, almost certain he won’t need to.  Still, though, he likes that Keith offered. It’s sweet of him.  He rolls his shoulders out, trying his best to relax, and Keith massages the base of his neck for a few more moments before dragging his fingers along the knobs of his spine, fingers catching on a few lumpy scars.  A hand squeezes his ass and he hears Keith hum appreciatively. “You are so goddamn sexy, you know that?” He says, sounding breathless.

Shiro smiles into the pillow.  “You may have mentioned it once or twice.”  Or several dozen times. Admittedly, Shiro was been nervous, when they first started being intimate together again after their reunion.  The scars, the arm, the white hair… his time with the Galra seemed to have  _ aged  _ him, simultaneously shaving years off his life with stress and stacking more years of trauma on.  He looked different. He  _ was  _ different.  And Keith didn’t care one bit.  Keith showed him time and time again how he loves the Shiro he still is at his core just as much as the Shiro he is on the outside, even if that person is changed from the man who left Earth.  Shiro hadn’t quite understood it, from Keith’s perspective. Until tonight, when Keith told him he himself had changed too. It didn’t change his love for him, not one bit, even before he found out about the eggs.  The eggs did sweeten the pot, though. 

“It’s not just your body, of course,” Keith says over the  _ click-snap _ of the lube being opened.  “Your personality is sexy, too.”

Shiro laughs, the sound going a little breathless at the first touch of slick fingers tracing around his hole.  “I don’t think personalities can be ‘sexy’...” 

“Sure they can.”  Keith says easily, dipping just the tip of his finger inside and tugging teasingly on the rim.  “Yours is.” 

Shiro pushes his hips back on the finger and looks over his shoulder.  “Is it because I’m such a good mate?” 

Something dark and heady takes over Keith’s eyes as a slow smile spreads over his lips.  “Yeah.” He drapes himself over Shiro’s back, catching his mouth in a searing kiss. The movement pushes his finger deeper --  _ finally  _ \-- and Shiro lets out a low groan.  One finger quickly becomes two, then three, and Keith’s other hand slides around his hip to curl around his cock, pumping Shiro as Keith rolls his hips into his backside.  Shiro can feel the drag of every ridge of Keith’s cock as it slides along his inner thigh, leaking some sort of fluid that feels slicker than human precome. 

“Keith…” Shiro groans, rocking his hips back.  “Put it in, fuck, I’m ready…” 

Keith nips at the base of his throat once more, a firework of warmth radiating from that spot as he straightens back up.  A warm hand curls around Shiro’s hip as Keith takes himself in his other hand and lines himself up. He carefully presses in, and even as slow as it is, it still feels like Shiro’s breath has been punched out of his lungs.  The ridges aren’t very big, but it’s still enough to feel a slight stretch as each one is swallowed by his hole, over and over. Shiro lets out a groan, his head falling to rest against his hands that are fisted in the sheets underneath him.  Keith keeps going until he’s fully inside, pelvis flush with Shiro’s backside, then he pauses to let Shiro adjust while he drapes himself over his back. One hand traces teasingly around a nipple as the other slowly pumps his cock, teeth scraping tantalizingly lightly over the back of his neck.  Shiro shivers at the sensation. 

“Keith, please…” He rolls his hips back to show he’s ready.  Keith drops a kiss to the back of his neck and straightens up.  A hand pauses between his shoulders to gently press him down, until his chest is resting on the bed, ass raised in the air.  Keith lets out a low hum of approval and slides his palm along the curve of his spine, all the way down to where they’re joined.  He traces around the edge of Shiro’s stretched hole, pressing just enough to tease, as if to add his finger. Shiro pushes his hips back, but the finger retreats before it can enter him, and he lets out a groan.  “Keith, if you don’t fuck me, I’m going to push you down and just ride you.” He threatens, need throbbing between his legs. “Come on, baby, I  _ need  _ you, I need your eggs inside me.”   

Keith lets out a low, animal-sounding rumble.  Shiro isn’t sure whether it’s a growl or a purr (since when does Keith purr?), but the sound sends a shiver down his spine as heat pools in his belly.  Keith’s hips snap forward, burying himself to the hilt in Shiro and drawing a cry out of him at finally getting what he wants. “You want my eggs that badly?”  He purrs, hands gripping his hips as he starts to thrust. 

Shiro moans as the ridges on his cock drag against his inner walls in the most delicious way, punching his breath out of his chest with every deep thrust in.  “Yes, god, Keith… Please, I need your cock, I need your eggs. Fill me up, breed me, I’m yours…” Shiro cuts off with a gasp as Keith growls and fucks into him harder.  He drapes himself over Shiro’s back and mounts him like a lion in heat, a raw, primal side of him Shiro hasn’t seen before but can’t bring himself to question when it feels this good.  Shiro has to reach down and wrap his hand around his own cock in an almost too-painful grip to keep from coming; he doesn’t want to finish too soon. 

“Shiro…” Keith huffs, nuzzling the side of his neck.  “I’m close…” 

“Go ahead,” Shiro lets his knees spread wider.  “Come for me, baby. Fill me up with your eggs.”  

Keith’s hot breath ghosts over his shoulder before his mouth closes around the muscle, strong enough to make his breath hitch but careful enough to not break the skin.  Even so, his teeth press dangerously into his skin, a warm, electric sensation sparking through him. They both let out a moan as the heat radiates through them both, pulsing out from the point where Keith’s mouth is clamped around the meat of Shiro’s shoulder.  His hips stutter one last time, then they snap forward to bury himself as deep as he can with a low groan. 

Shiro has only a moment to catch his breath, then he feels something hard and solid pressing insistently against the edge of his hole, as if Keith’s cock was swelling at the base.  “Is that…?”

“Yeah,” Keith pants, resting his forehead against the back of Shiro’s shoulder.  “Tell me if it gets to be too much.” 

The egg pushes itself past Shiro’s stretched rim, stealing his breath and any intelligent response away from him as it travels deeper into him, even deeper than Keith’s cock was.  He has barely a moment to think about it when another pushes past his hole, following suit. It settles against the first as yet another makes its way inside him, each one weighing heavier and heavier.  The fourth one rests against his prostate, making him see stars as he grips his own cock to keep from coming. At each one, Keith lets out a breathy gasp or a groan, as if every one is a separate orgasm.  For all Shiro knows, it could be. When the fifth presses more heavily on his prostate, Shiro actually cries out, the sensation bordering on overstimulation. 

“This is the last one,” Keith murmurs, kissing his throat.  Shiro isn’t sure if that’s an apology or a promise, and he doesn’t care when the sixth egg pushes inside him.  Keith’s hand replaces his own on his cock and he pumps his length while the egg travels as far as it can, resting heavily against the ones already there.  The weight filling him up and pressing down on his prostate, coupled with the knowledge of what they are and the way Keith’s thumb rubs over the head of his cock and teases his slit in that way he  _ knows  _ makes Shiro unravel… it all crescendos and brings his orgasm crashing down on him, his vision going white and starry as he cries out.  He clenches down on the eggs deep inside him, letting out a low moan when he feels the mass stay solid and unmoving under his tightening walls.

Shiro lets his eyes fall closed and just floats on the pulsating pleasure washing over him, only tuning back in when he feels Keith nose at the side of his throat like a cat.  He tips his head to the side, baring his neck, and Keith lays a line of kisses up from his shoulder up to just under his ear before he straightens up.

“You okay?”  Keith asks, thumbs rubbing circles into Shiro’s hips.  Shiro doesn’t move or make any indication that he heard him.  Keith’s brow furrows; he didn’t pass out, did he? “Shiro?” He takes one hand off his hip to slide it up the expanse of his back.  

Shiro lets out a low groan in response.  Without Keith holding his hips up, he is suddenly unbalanced and his left side collapses under him, making him fall onto his side on the bed.  “I think you broke me… fuck, Keith, that was so amazing.”

Keith smiles, lying down behind him and pressing close to spoon him.  “I’m glad you liked it.” 

“I loved it,” Shiro sighs, pulling Keith’s arm around himself, even as Keith was sliding it around his waist on his own.  “Way more than I imagined.” 

“Mm,” Keith nods in agreement, his nose nuzzling the short, buzzed hairs at the nape of Shiro’s neck.  His finger idly traces around one of Shiro’s nipples as they both come down from the high of orgasm together.  

Shiro slips his hand down his stomach, fingers dancing over his lower abdomen.  His breath catches when he feels a small, distinct bump there, right between his hips, feeling like large, heavy, metal marbles inside him.  A flash of heat rushes through his tired body at the thought, and his cock twitches even though he knows it is too soon to go another round. “Fuck,” he groans, eyes falling closed.  Behind him, Keith makes a questioning hum. Rather than trying to explain it, Shiro just guides his hand down to the bump. “Feel that? Those are all your eggs inside me. You filled me up so much, baby.”  

Keith says nothing for a moment, then lets out a low rumble and curls his hand around Shiro’s stomach almost possessively.  

Shiro hums happily, leaning back into his arms as he rubs his hand lightly over the bump.  Keith rests his hand just underneath it, as though appreciating the weight of it. 

“Um, Shiro?”  Keith speaks up after a few minutes.  “Eventually, these are gonna need to… come out, at some point.”

Shiro opens his eyes.  Right, right. The eggs wouldn’t ever take, as he had nowhere for them to develop.  Nor was it likely they would dissolve on their own. They had to come out. So how would he…?  

Experimentally, he presses down on the small bump and feels the eggs shift inside him, the sensation making him shiver.  “I think… I’ve got an idea. Sit back against the wall.” 

Keith does so, and helps maneuver Shiro upright until he is laying back against Keith’s chest, between his legs.  He props his knees up, rubs the small bump one last time, and then presses down on it. The eggs shift inside him again, the sensation almost too much for his overstimulated body, and he throws his head back with a moan.  Keith kisses the side of his neck, rolling his hand down Shiro’s stomach in a slow, steady stroke. They keep going, Keith pushing and Shiro bearing down on it, and Shiro groans as something round and solid stretches his hole before popping out onto the sheets.  He barely has a chance to look at it before Keith is pressing his hand down again and the eggs shift lower. They’re bigger than he thought, but he knows they went in, so they can come out again. Even if he would rather they stay in, keeping him stuffed full… 

Shiro lets his head rest back on Keith’s shoulder, trying to relax his inner muscles again.  Getting turned on is not going to help move things along. 

“Come on, Shiro,” Keith murmurs, hot breath ghosting over his ear, and Shiro feels his breath hitch at the sensation; that is not helping either… “One down, five more to go.  You can do it.” 

Shiro picks his head up and bears down again as Keith pushes his hand down his stomach.  The eggs jostle inside of him as they shift downward. The second one stretches his hole before dislodging and joining the other with a wet  _ plop _ .  The eggs seem to be covered in some sort of slick coating, which helps lubricate them on their way out (and, more likely their intent, on the way in).  In due time, and with a great amount of effort, two more follow suit. By that point, though, Shiro is a weird combination of exhausted, massively overstimulated, and slightly turned on just from constantly feeling the eggs moving inside him.  

“You’re almost done, Shiro,” Keith murmurs close to his ear.  “Almost there.” 

Shiro lets out a whine, his eyes fluttering closed.  “I can’t… it’s too much…” 

Keith pauses.  “I don’t know if we can take a break and come back to it.”  He admits. “I don’t think we can. They need to come out before the slick dries and they get stuck…”

Shiro sighs, knowing he is probably right.  “Yeah. I’m just… so tired…” 

Keith goes quiet for a few moments.  “I have an idea.” Rather than explaining, he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the side of Shiro’s neck, right where his throat meets his shoulder.  Teeth scrape lightly over his skin, the sensation tingling, and he pauses, asking a silent question. 

Thinking it is worth a shot, Shiro nods, and Keith closes his teeth around the meat of his shoulder.  It’s a lighter bite than before, but no less effective. A rush of heat floods Shiro, spreading out from that point, and it feels not unlike getting a second wind around the first mile marker of his morning run; energy he doesn’t know he had in him manifests, reinvigorating him suddenly.  He takes advantage of the burst of energy and pushes down hard. His hole feels wrecked, more stretched than he has ever been, but the last two eggs finally pop free, one at a time. He collapses back against Keith, legs falling to the sides and leaving him spread open but relaxed. 

Keith kisses the spot he bit and smoothes his hands up and down Shiro’s abdomen.  Shiro lets himself pretend for a moment that the bump is still there. “Good job, Shiro, you did so good…” he murmurs the words against his skin.  “My perfect mate…” 

Shiro hums contently, leaning back against him more comfortably.  Peeling his eyes open, he looks down at the mess between his legs.  The six eggs sit there, looking practically innocuous on their own. He reaches down and picks one up.  The puddle of slick surrounding them has turned tacky as it dries and stiffens. He holds it between his thumb and index finger, turning his hand to see it.  Light catches on the surface, the pearlescent sheen changing colors with every movement. It’s surprisingly heavy for something so small, the surface hard under the slickness coating it.  “That was inside me.” He says dumbly, feeling dazed. “Your eggs. Inside me.” 

“Mhm,” Keith nods, hugging him.  “Thank you, by the way.”

“Oh, my pleasure, literally.” Shiro chuckles, setting the egg down next to the others again.  “Can we do this again, next time?”

“If you’re up for it.”  Keith smiles against his skin.  

“I want to.”  Shiro sighs, letting his eyes close again as he remembers how the eggs filled him up and pressed down on his prostate.  “I want to, every time you need it. I’ll gladly take all of your eggs.” He turns his head to the side and presses a kiss to Keith’s lips.  Or, more accurately, to the corner of his mouth, barely on his lips, but Shiro is too exhausted to care. He can already feel himself drifting off.  

“Okay,” Keith kisses him back, heart swelling.  “I’d love that.” 

Shiro hums, satisfied with that answer.  Keith smiles down at him as he strokes his hair.  

~~~~~

They both want nothing more than to pull up the covers and fall asleep, but Keith forces himself to slide out from underneath him.  Shiro lets out a displeased groan, pawing at him. Keith chuckles and presses a kiss to his forehead. “I need to clean up. You and the eggs.”  

“Mm,” Shiro hums sleepily, flopping over sideways to lay his head on the pillow.  Keith goes to the bathroom and wets a washcloth with warm water at the sink. Taking it back to the bed, he wipes away the sweat and cleans up any leftover, drying fluids from Shiro’s body and his own.  Laying the cloth open on the bed, he piles all the eggs up on top. Shiro cracks open an eye to watch him. “What do you do with them?” 

“Chuck them out the trash chute.”  Keith says, picking up the corners of the cloth.  

“Keith, those are our babies.”  Shiro says, sounding like he’s pouting.  Keith gives him a mollified look, but Shiro’s eyes are already closed again, his lips barely moving as he speaks.  “I shat them out into this world, and you’re just gonna throw them away…”

“You’re still loopy from getting your brains fucked out, aren’t you?”  Keith picks the little bundle up, one hand pinching the corners of the cloth and the other underneath for support.  It’s a surprisingly heavy weight, and heat stirs in his gut at the thought of all that being in Shiro.

“We’ll need to buy a crib…”  Shiro mumbles sleepily. “Lance can knit them some baby hats… we should start a college fund…”

Keith snorts.  “Yep, still loopy.”  He carries the bundle back to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light.  Silly as it is, he can’t help but feel a rush of affection for his partner, his mate.  Even half-awake, Shiro still wants the best for his imaginary babies. It’s adorable, to say the least.  He really is the perfect mate for Keith.

“Can we name one of them Luke?”  Shiro asks from the other room.

“We’re not naming any of them; I’m throwing them out!”  Keith dumps the eggs into the trash chute and closes the door.  A rush of air sucks them down the chute, and he tosses the washcloth in the laundry hamper in the corner on his way out the door.  He still touches his hand to the lightswitch automatically, even though it is already off. Old habits die hard. “And you only want to name something Luke so you can say ‘ _ Luke, I am your father _ ’, don’t you?”  He eyes his sleepy boyfriend accusingly.

“You know me so well, baby.”  Shiro sighs, hugging a pillow to his chest.  Keith chuckles and turns off the bedroom light.  His eyes adjust in a matter of moments, and he easily crosses the room and climbs into bed.  Shiro lets out a noise of protest when he tries to pry the pillow out of his grip and put himself there.  “Spoon.” His demand would carry a lot more weight if he wasn’t half-asleep already, Keith thinks.

“What, don’t want to hug me?”  Keith cocks an eyebrow as he climbs over his boyfriend (since God knows Shiro probably won’t just roll onto his other side in his exhausted state).

“I think I can still feel a little bump down there.”  Shiro mumbles, barely awake. He can’t, and Keith knows it, but they can pretend.  So pretend they will. Keith wraps his arms around him and rubs a hand over the firm muscle of his lower abdomen, remembering what it felt like to have his eggs there, pressing against him from the inside while both of them basked in the knowledge that Shiro was heavy with Keith’s eggs.  He kisses the back of Shiro’s neck and settles down, and they are both asleep within minutes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (UPDATE: Again, can't figure out how to embed the images like I wanted to. Here is the [link](https://shitlorddio-smut.tumblr.com/post/174269597972/yes-god-keith-please-i-need-your-cock-i-need), please go check it out!)
> 
> (Bonus scene, the next morning)  
> Hunk: “Guys, check it out! Those locals from the planet we last liberated gave us space-chicken eggs and veggies, so I made omelettes!”  
> Keith, throwing his hands up: “.....Nope, I’m good, don’t need breakfast today. See you guys on the training deck.”  
> Hunk: “Aw, he doesn’t like eggs?”  
> Shiro, who will eat anything and everything: “Oh he likes eggs plenty, trust me… I like them too, for the record. I like them very much.”  
> Pidge: “....I feel like there is context here that I don’t want to know about.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I've been sitting on this little egg (HA) since last fall so I was excited to finally post it ⸂⸂⸜(രᴗര๑)⸝⸃⸃ And once again, thank you to [shitlorddio](https://shitlorddio-smut.tumblr.com/post/174269597972/yes-god-keith-please-i-need-your-cock-i-need) and [curiously-artistic](https://the-dark-tomato-king.tumblr.com/post/174273245990/my-contribution-to-the-vld-kink-bang-the-lovely) for the amazing artwork! 
> 
> Please let me know if you liked it! I have a [ tumblr](http://gold-leeaf.tumblr.com/) and a [NSFW tumblr](https://bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies.tumblr.com/) if you want to see me scream about Voltron.


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